The Youngest Daughter
by Inara Seraph
Summary: The spirit of Shana the Flame Haze persists into the life of Ginny Weasley. The Overpowered Flame Princess then proceeds to steamroll the Harry Potter universe. Or she will, once she grows up.
1. Genesis

This is reposted via Spacebattles. It takes the form of a quest, a type of communal story where other people vote on what they want the main character to do. Without the additional context from the forum thread, parts of this story may not make much sense, jump around, or stop abruptly.

* * *

Everything is dark, and wet. You can feel yourself moving through a long tunnel. Your consciousness is scrambled; you can't form a coherent thought. The only thing you know is that you're moving.

Light crashes onto your vision. You start to long for the comforting blackness over this whirl of colors. Along with the harsh visuals, you can hear sounds now too. Beeps, and loud voices, and someone is crying; is it you? The torrent of _feeling_ and _thought_ is a never-ending tidal wave. You start to become aware of your **self**.

You're not a formless nothing floating aimlessly anymore; you have a body. Arms, legs, head, torso. It feels familiar. You open your eyes like.. this?

A tear-streaked face is smiling down at you. She's so big.. or maybe, you're just small. You're not crying anymore, but you can't keep your eyes open. The sensory overload is too much, the shock of _being_ too intense. You fall into slumber gratefully, hearing your mother's voice crooning somewhere above you as your consciousness fades.

"My baby girl.. Ginny.."

The image in your mind shifts, as does your perception. You're not a baby anymore. Instead, you're a girl with blazing eyes flying on wings of fire.

Time seems to flow irregularly for you. At some point, you've changed environments. From your vantage point in your mother's arms, you can't see much. She hasn't let you down since you came home. It is loud and noisy, and you are treated to many different curious faces poking and prodding you. It's annoying, and you try to bite any wandering fingers that roam too close to your face. It doesn't work without teeth.

You finally get some peace when night falls. You have a comfortable, worn crib to sleep in. Your mother is watching over you even now, snoozing on a chair opposite you. You fall asleep next to her comforting presence. Your dream takes you to an imaginary place.

_Shana._

The name rises to your lips unbidden. That is.. no, was, your name. You're not a baby anymore- you're a young girl. You look down at your hands. This body feels familiar and comfortable, but at the same time, it's entirely alien.

You look at the world around you. You're in the middle of nowhere. A bright white expanse extends forever in every direction. The floor beneath your feet is hard. There isn't a sound to be heard anywhere apart from your own breathing.

You try to walk forward, but you're too clumsy. You don't know how to do it. You fall on to your face with an unseemly _splat._ You feel tears threatening to fall, but you resist the urge to cry.

An extended hand enters your field of vision. You look up to see.. yourself. She's smiling at you. _No.. this is Shana, _you think to yourself. Then who are you? You don't have an answer.

There are no words exchanged; there is no need. She helps you up, and leads you to another place. You look upon a younger Shana. You look at her questioningly as if to ask, _is this you?_

She nods affirmatively. The scene in the dream abruptly stops, and she turns to you. She touches her hand to yours. You can _feel _the question she's asking. _Will you let me in? Shall we watch this together?_

You nod tentatively, and close your eyes. You can feel her hands sink into yours. She's melding with your own being, and the scene before you changes in your perception from an interesting movie to a fond remembrance.

You recall being rescued at an early age. The scene shifts to your life at the Heavenly Palace. Even as young as you are, you're training to be a Flame Haze, like those who rescued you. From the very beginning, you were going to be the next Flame-Haired Blazing Eyed Hunter. It was the duty that defined you for most of your life. You don't regret any part of it.

The Power of Existence that resides in you is still present, even in this second life. Alastor said you were a 'Great One;' someone with a powerful destiny. Even if you hadn't become a Flame Haze, you would've had a great impact on history. You have no reason to believe it will be any different this time around.

It is good for you to watch yourself train again. With a new body, in a new world, you won't be the same as you were before. The part of you that doesn't understand any of this can't fly on wings of fire like you could. Not yet.

But the dream is already falling apart. You'll have to wait until next time to continue rediscovering yourself. You recede back into the corners of her mind, and rest.

* * *

Eat, sleep, relieve yourself; the days are a cycle of basic needs being filled. The waking world isn't nearly as wonderful as the sleeping one. Even still, some core part of you feels a drive- an ever-burning flame- to advance. To become independent. To learn.

You soak up the language spoken around you. Trying to utilize your mouth to talk, to say anything at all, is a lot harder than you would've thought. You can only make incomprehensible baby noises. You crawl determinedly, and struggle to stand. If somebody helps you up, you can keep yourself upright. Most of all, you try to equalize your experience in your sleep, with your experience in reality. You're so limited out here.

Your parents are impressed. Their little girl is so strong, to be able to stand at all. And so smart, she's already trying to speak. Your mother positively dotes over you. and your father loves holding you as well. Your brothers are not nearly as impressed.

If you're trying to stand, one of them will tip you over. If you try to speak, they'll laugh at you. It makes you angry. At the very least, the biggest ones don't pay much bother to you. It's only the ones that are small, like you, that seem to find you of any interest. You wish they'd be interested in something else. Their attention is always unpleasant.

* * *

The dreams continue. You carefully note the methods used in manipulating your power. Once you're more independent, you want to regain your former abilities as a Flame Haze. You would ask yourself why, but.. it just feels right. You wouldn't be you, if you weren't the Flame Haired Blazing Eyed Hunter. You won't let yourself dishonor the title, even if nobody knows it but you.

Soon, you'll run out of immediate goals to pursue, and you'll have to determine what you want, but for now; you don't need to worry.

* * *

Your first birthday is a big celebration with your family. Your brothers aren't allowed to be mean to you today, at least, not where your parents can see them. You think you're starting to pick out what people's names are.

You can't open your presents without help, but that's okay. None of it is stuff you want or need anyways. Mostly, this is an occasion for your mother. Your brothers are visibly disgruntled with how much she's enjoying spoiling you. You now have an enchanted set of glowing stars to hang over your crib as you sleep. It's very pretty.

You can feel the fusion of souls progressing after every dream. Your levels of thinking are becoming much more advanced from Shana's influence. Your eyes reflect the knowledge of someone much older and wiser than your appearance would indicate. If you continue this way, then by the time it is done, you will be an adult in a child's body.

You can sense the Power of Existence in yourself. Your contract with Alastor must not have been voided just because you were reborn, or you wouldn't be able to. Nobody else has any, to your confusion. Isn't that what keeps everybody alive? How can you have none? Things must work differently here. There might not even be a Crimson Realm.

You remember the incident at the Heavenly Palace. You see yourself forming the contract with Alastor, and defeating the creator of Nietono no Shana to prove your strength. The sword you would use your entire life is your prize. Your gaze lingers upon it longingly.

You want your sword back. You can make another one, you're sure of it. You wielded it for long enough; and your control over Power of Existence bordered on legendary. One day, you'll put forth efforts to recreate your favored Treasure Tool. It's a promise.

You remember your initial travels with Alastor. You reach for the pendant you always wore, but it's not there anymore. It makes you feel sad. You recall the first missions you undertook with Alastor. You're still very young, and new to the duty of a Flame Haze. Even though you had trained for it, it couldn't possibly fully prepare you for what awaited you.

You feel a sense of anticipation. Soon, you'll meet the person who changed your life, who set into motion the events that defined your place in history. Yuji Sakai, a Mystes, the holder of the Midnight Lost Child. The man you fell in love with.

The dream fades before the moment can be reached, to your disappointment. Maybe tomorrow..

* * *

You know everybody's names now. They get spoken often enough. Your brothers, from oldest to youngest, are Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, and Ron. Your parents call each other Molly and Arthur, but all the children just call them Mum and Dad.

Ron is hardly any older than you are. He's only just learning to walk, and is loud and messy. He doesn't bother you much. Fred and George are twins, and are hardly ever apart. Most often they are the ones interacting with you. You think they just like to see how you react to different things. Pulling your ears, trying to tickle you, or pretending to throw spells at you with stick wands. It's made you a bit paranoid whenever you can't see them. It's odd that they don't bother Ron as much, but maybe they realize you understand more than he does?

Percy follows his two older brothers around a lot, but he doesn't seem to do much. Bill and Charlie are really close, and always off together doing things. You often see Percy prowling around the house trying to find them. You don't see much of either Bill or Charlie. They probably have better and more entertaining things to do.

You're determined to be able to move about the house all by yourself. It's just embarrassing having to be carried everywhere. This won't do at all. Your mother is supervising you closely. She knows what you're trying to do, so she simply watches, and waits.

You put one foot in front of the other, and walk. You fall on your butt in a graceless display. Your mother runs forward to hold you, but you're already levering yourself up off the ground. You don't cry. You get up. Your mother can only gape as you put all your determination into this single, deceptively simple act.

You put one foot in front of the other, and walk. As soon you can do it once, you can do it again. Bipedal motion goes like this. You know that if you can hone your instincts, you won't ever have to think about this again. You're moving across the floor now. You've taken several steps.. but you can't keep it going. You stumble, and fall into your mother's onrushing arms. She lifts you up and hugs you tightly. She's so excited about your accomplishment, she's squeezing hard enough that it's hard to breathe while she's talking rapidly. When she finally puts you down, you gasp for breath.

You use your newfound ability to explore the house, much to your mother's dismay. You've learned that she doesn't like not knowing where you are. She always keeps close tabs on you, but she at least seems to have resigned herself to the fact that she doesn't need to flip out if she can't find you.

You lever yourself up the stairs slowly and deliberately. It's a lot harder than walking, but it will be worth it to reach the rest of the house, formerly out of your reach. When you reach the top, you look for a room to go into. You choose the closest one.

Bill is in there, and he looks equal parts confused and annoyed at the interruption. He's reading a book. You pay no heed to his scrutiny and wander around his room, inspecting it. There's a poster of people riding brooms on the wall. One of them waves at you as you pass. There's a dresser against the wall that you walk up to open, but you're stopped by a hand on your shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Bill asks.

You turn to look back at him. "Just looking," you say. You go back to inspecting the pants drawer. A bit later your mother comes and drags you out of his room and asks you to repeat yourself. "Just.. looking..?" you murmur.

Those are your first words. You were unaware that was an important landmark, so you were surprised when your mother scooped you up in her arms and squealed happily.

Your infant brain is amazing at helping you decipher language, and your house is always filled with talk and laughter, so it isn't hard to learn. Your vocabulary isn't large, and your sentences are short and simple, but you can make yourself understood. You aren't even two yet.

* * *

Fred and George did magic today. They were apparently running from your mother and managed to turn invisible. It's something you'll be able to do too, eventually. You try to look for some kind of magical core you might possess, like you'd look for your own Power of Existence, but you can't find anything. You'll just have to wait until it happens.

You understand that Bill is leaving the house to train at a school for magic. Your mother and father both went there, and all your brothers will too. You'll be the last one. It'll be kind of irritating having to wait your turn, but at least you'll have plenty of first-hand knowledge about the place from your brothers.

Your second birthday party isn't as grand as your first. Just a dinner in your honor, and some new clothes from your parents. It's a nice atmosphere. Your home is absolutely filled with positive feelings. It makes you feel a little awkward. It's why you secretly appreciate your brothers being stupid sometimes. You know how to react to that. A swift bop to the head has claimed many victims since you first started utilizing it. Your brothers tell you that you hit like a troll. You just smile smugly at them.

* * *

It's an odd experience living through it again. At the time, what you were saying made complete sense. But now, looking at it in hindsight, you just sound cruel. You're just a Torch. It was true, wasn't it? He wasn't even a blip on your radar at that point. His flame would run out, and you'd forget all about him.

But his flame never extinguished. Part of that was just luck; what were the odds he held the Midnight Lost Child- but, you'd like to believe that the other part was simply his burning desire to exist. He never gave into depression, not like all the other Torches you'd seen come and go. He tried until the very end, and even then he still accepted his fate. When his flame rekindled, he was as surprised as you were.

He showed you the importance of having a name. A self. Your commitment to duty would never be in doubt, but from Yuji you learned that it was just as important to be someone. That no one could become an ideal; that even a Flame Haze was a person. It was a lesson that Hecate never really learned.

He's so in over his head at the beginning. He doesn't really appreciate the true scope of the conflict that you dedicated your life to, at least.. not yet. You see you and he collaborating. It was so infuriating in the beginning, that you were essentially dependent on him. You couldn't get your wings to work if he wasn't there. The feelings that arose interfered with your duty, made it harder to fulfill your purpose. You were very irritable back then.

Soon, the dream comes to a close with Yuji being rescued from Hecate's clutches. You still can't stand that girl. You could never figure out why Yuji sympathized with her so much. Maybe re-watching everything will give you some insight.. but probably not.

* * *

Your eyes are open, both literally and figuratively. You can make connections between important concepts, things that you generally took for granted before. It's an entirely new world for you, with an entirely new life to live. What are you going to do? What do you want? You'll have an answer to that soon. You know your dreams won't last forever.

Your mum has been wondering about your hair recently. She keeps wondering if you've been putting glitter in it. You haven't. Your hair is just naturally luminescent, like it was when you were in 'Flame Haze Mode'. Your whole family's hair is red, but only yours is the shimmering shade that catches the eye of all who look on it. You like it. It's the proof of your former life.

Bill brought back 'souvenirs' from Hogwarts for everybody on Christmas. You couldn't see what everyone else got, but you now have a tiny little animated cat plushie. It's soft and squishy, but it keeps trying to bat away your hands with its nonexistent claws whenever you pick it up. You thank Bill for the gift and put it next to your pillow. You like sleeping next to it.

The house is big compared to your tiny self, but you're determined to have the whole place mapped out in your head. Percy is sharing a room with Ron, the twins have their own, Charlie is alone now that Bill isn't here, and you have your own room next to your parents. You'll have your own bed soon. Your mother just keeps saying 'when you're older' when you ask for one. You don't like sleeping in a crib.

You made it to the attic one day and found an absolutely hideous ghoul-thing there. You'd always thought the twins were joking about that, but apparently they were dead serious. You most definitely weren't scared, and you are most definitely going to set it on fire if you see it again.

The kitchen is a place that is usually out-of-bounds. Your mother always yells at your brothers to shoo while she's in there. But apparently, she makes an exception for you. If you toddle in there while she's cooking, she'll plop you on the counter and let you watch. You try to pay attention, but cooking isn't really something that interests you. You usually end up daydreaming about the day you'll finally obtain some melon bread. You should start bugging Mum about that.

Your parent's room isn't nearly as interesting as you'd have thought, given how many times they shoo you out. A huge bed, pictures of everyone, dressers, a connected bathroom.. it's all stuff you've seen elsewhere in the house. Their bed is really comfy though.

The real secret place is the 'workshop' in the backyard next to the storage shed. It resembles a large red-painted barn. Your dad disappears in there often. When you followed him in one day, you caught a glimpse of a bunch of electric appliances before he kicked you out. You guess that because your family uses magic for everything, he finds the 'non-magical' methods interesting. Or maybe he's finding ways to combine the two.

Exploring everything is a lot easier when you're as nimble and strong as you are, comparatively to your size. You can climb the stairs with ease now, pull yourself on top of counters and boxes, and you're still small enough to hide under the sink. It makes you think.

You're starting to wonder on the effects of the contract on your reborn body. There's no way you should be as strong or as fast as you are right now, considering how old you are. As Shana, you were essentially 'remade' into a superior being when you made the contract with Alastor; that's why your physical abilities were so impressive, and why you couldn't age. Your regular self was 'erased' and you became a Flame Haze.

Will you stop aging after a certain point? You can't say for sure, but you don't think so. It's certainly a welcome bonus. You don't have to be stuck looking thirteen years old for the rest of your life, and you still get the superhuman abilities. You wouldn't be able to use most of your techniques without the enhanced attributes.

It will only become blatantly obvious when you're older, and only if you're not careful to show off. Then again, there might not be any point in hiding anything. They can probably come up with some kind of explanation involving magic that will satisfy them.

Your third birthday party is another fun day for you. The novelty of your existence has worn off for Fred and George for the most part. They still call you their 'favorite sister' and drop in to annoy you occasionally, but they've been a lot more independent lately. They told you they wouldn't prank you on your birthday, with the air of someone bestowing a great favor. You rolled your eyes in reply.

You've been stumped by script written here and there, and you've decided that's something you're going to fix, starting now. You'll bug your mother to teach you how to read ahead of schedule. She'll probably make Ron sit in on your lessons with you. You hope he won't be too insufferable.

* * *

Your time with Yuji continues. You learn a lot about living as a person during this time. Yuji's parents are very helpful in allowing you to understand your own feelings. Wilhelmina was a terrible role model in that regard. You also form a friendship with Kazumi. It's a little strange, considering how you were both after the same person. You're glad she was such a good person.

Konoe.. no, Hecate, steps into the classroom. It's so irritating. Hecate was always capable of things that seemed impossible. Her spellcasting ability was legendary. Only she could've made a puppet completely indistinguishable from a human. You should've gone with your first impulse and gotten rid of her as soon as you saw her. But you know Yuji wouldn't have stood for that.

Yuji trains so hard to walk by your side. Casting his first Seal- the mystery of the Silver flames, the appearance of Pheles and Johann. You remember how terrified you were when you thought Yuji might be gone forever. It almost makes you understand how Pheles could be so obsessed.

The showdown with Sabrac unfolds before you again. It feels like a lot of your battles came down to an opponent utilizing a flawed Unrestricted Method to gain unimaginable powers in exchange for a critical weakness. You never had to rely on any such thing. When Yuji and the others destroyed his source of power, you were able to match him head on. Sabrac is vanquished beneath your flames.

You feel a vague sense of dread as the dream comes to a close. The last one will be hard to relive. Though it might have turned out alright in the end, you won't relish fighting against Yuji again.

* * *

You take your first steps toward reclaiming Flame Haze status as you sit in the living room in a meditative pose. You reach into the fount of power residing in your soul. The feel of your own power.. it's the only Power of Existence you'll ever sense in this world. It reminds you of Alastor. The pool of energy you have to draw from is as vast as an ocean; the depth of the Crimson God's power is deep. Even in this second life, the Flame of Heaven is helping you out. It's a comforting thought.

It feels good. You're starting to feel more like yourself. It's just strange being so weak. With your eyes closed you breathe deeply, in and out, and materialize your magical fire. A tiny ball of flame makes circles in the palm of your hand. You close your fist around it, extinguishing the fire. You crack your eyes open, and see Ron staring at you, mouth agape.

"How'd you do that?" he asks incredulously.

"This fire is mine. So it's easy," you explain. He doesn't seem to get it. You don't think you could properly explain it in a way that he'd understand anyway. You make another ball of red flame and pass it from hand to hand. Ron's eyes follow its path through the air, but you don't pay any mind to him. You're concentrating on remembering the feel of your own power, and how to control it. You'll scale up your practice when you're more confident in your abilities.

Ron talks about your 'show' during dinner later. Some details must have gotten lost in translation, as he makes you sound like a pyromaniac. Your parents are both proud of your use of 'magic', but your mother also tells you not to burn the house down. You scoff at the notion. You only set things on fire that you intend to.

* * *

There's one less person in the house. Charlie is in his first year at Hogwarts now. The house isn't as noisy anymore. It's a little strange how used to the noise you'd gotten. It's still loud, but it isn't quite the same. You let out a sigh, and bump into Fred and George blocking the hallway. "Move it," you command.

They exchange a look. Then, wearing identical cat-grins, they say, "Make us."

You growl, and take an aggressive stance. Your eyes flash dangerously. You're satisfied when a flicker of fear passes over their faces. "Don't make me hurt you," you say magnanimously.

Fred frowns, and turns to question his twin. "Is this the same girl who named her plushie cat Mr. Meow, George?" he asks rhetorically.

"I think it is, Fred," George nods solemnly.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" you yell, an embarrassing blush on your cheeks. You knock them both upside the head a few times for good measure, then walk away determinedly without looking back. That's the problem with family. When you're living together, it's easy to find out embarrassing secrets about each other. You're pretty sure they knew exactly what your reaction would be, but they still did it regardless. Stupid twins.

* * *

Even when Yuji disappeared on Christmas Eve, you didn't freak out. You knew he'd resurface eventually, and you were right. He was.. different, when you saw him again. Even if he served as the vessel for the Snake of the Festival willingly, he still changed, and not in a good way. He had a cruel streak he never showed before. Breaking Margery's mind like that, making Kazumi cry, and beating you into unconscious all in the span of an hour. It was almost kind of impressive, but maybe he just wanted to make a statement. I don't accept you as a Flame Haze.

He never really understood that part of you until later, when you carved the truth into his hide yourself. You understood his position. As a Flame Haze, you were locked into an eternal struggle with the Denizens; it would never end without the intervention of someone like the God of Creation. Inevitably, you would get unlucky eventually and fall in battle. He saw your fate as pitiable, but he didn't realize that you would've been satisfied with that.

It's hard to watch this part again. That stupid chain Yuji put on you, locking away your powers after he captured you. It turned out okay in the end, since it gave you time to examine yourself. Why are you afraid? What are you running from? It was obvious once you thought about it. Yourself as a Flame Haze, and yourself as the girl who loves Sakai Yuji.. their desires are conflicting. You don't want to fight Yuji, but you have to fight Yuji.

You remembered Sophie and Shiro's words to you; about finding love, and being at peace with yourself. That you didn't need to separate the two parts of yourself like that; you're still just one person. You firmed your resolve and aimed higher. Strike down Yuji, strike down the Snake of the Festival, and find a different solution. Yuji chided you for being naive; that your resolution was too optimistic. The Flame Hazes who made their contracts for revenge, they would never stop hating Denizens. You disagreed.

That fight wasn't conclusive. You couldn't stop Yuji before he completed his ritual. Flame Hazes died by the score as the Bal Masque army marched onward to Misaki City. You would have one more final confrontation to stop Yuji from creating his new 'paradise.'

And your gambit was successful, albeit not in the way you imagined. Xanadu was created despite your efforts. Though you'd stopped humans from being consumed by Denizens in the new world, you learned that the Snake of the Festival could've undone it if he'd felt like it. Fortunately he was not dissatisfied with your 'alteration.'

Yuji was a idiot to the very end. Even after the Crimson God left him, he still felt like he deserved to be punished for all the lives lost during his crusade. He couldn't accept your forgiveness. You fought him one last time and emerged victorious. Showing him the depth of your love and devotion, he finally started believing he could be allowed to live happily. The moment when you kissed and he regained his humanity is the happiest you've ever been in your life.

You departed together for Xanadu, the new world. It was a joyous ending for you. You can't quite remember what happens next, and the dream is beginning to fade, but you can't imagine the rest of your life was anything less than perfect. You know you won't dream of this anymore.

* * *

You awaken, and a bright smile spreads across your face. You're whole again. Ever since you've been reborn, there's been a vague discomfort in the back of your mind. You'd become so used to it you'd forgotten it was there. Now that it's gone, the contrast is startling. As a Flame Haze, your self-image is very important in wielding your powers. A small child has only barely begun to form a 'self,' but you're not a young child anymore. You can feel nearly the full scope of your Power of Existence ready to be called to your fingertips.

You know what's holding you back from reaching the highest levels. You don't have a purpose. A Flame Haze needs to devote herself to something. Where you are right now, you don't really know anything about the world you're in.. but that's alright. You don't need to rush things, and you like where you are right now. The love of a family.. an ordinary family, is something you didn't realize you'd come to desire until it happened. You can wait until you're older to grasp the true state of the world. Then, you can ally with like-minded people and fight for the cause of righteousness.

* * *

You've finished your reading lessons with your mother. Your house doesn't boast a large book collection, but there's a fair amount of material for you to read if you want. It's not something that's a passion of yours. You seek knowledge for practical reasons. It's enough that you're capable.

Even though you spend a lot of your time training, you're still happy whenever you bump into the twins. They have a mischievous streak a mile wide that keeps the days fun. You can still be the victim of a prank sometimes. You are either very inexperienced at this sort of thing, or they're uncommonly good.

You favor a more direct approach. If you've been victimized by the twins, they automatically start running when they hear your roar of rage. Despite you getting them back every time, they still keep doing it. It's a fun game, not that you'll ever let that show. That would be way too embarrassing.


	2. Growth

You spend time every day honing your inner strength. You're glad that your house is so rural, or you'd never be able to practice. Without a Seal to repair damage done to the environment, practically everything you do is ridiculously destructive. You think people will notice if giant craters start appearing in the countryside. You use the backyard as your training ground.

You slash your arm sideways and cry out, "Hien!"

A half-circle of flame extends outward from your body, sailing into the empty field in front of you. You purposely angle it upward so that it won't set fire to all the grass out here. The wall of flame reaches from your knees all the way to your head; unless you could fly, there's no way you could dodge it. It isn't the biggest wave you've ever created with that Unrestricted Method, but it's acceptable.

"Bloody hell, Ginny. Did a bug land on you or something?" you hear a voice speak from behind you. You turn and face Ron staring at the residual smoke. You shrug helplessly.

"There's no way that's normal," he says disbelievingly, shaking his head. "Why am I the only one who sees this?" He walks off without you having to say anything. You suppress a giggle, laying a hand to your mouth.

You hope it doesn't become an issue. It'll only get more ridiculous from here on out. Actually, it's already ridiculous. You're in the body of a five-year old. You just hope they don't start to fear you.. but, you don't think that will happen. Your mum and dad are wonderful people. If they become concerned, it'll be on your behalf. You'll just have to make sure they understand that nothing is wrong with you, and that you're fine.

You decide to put recreating the rest of your Unrestricted Methods off until later. You don't want to cause too many disturbances. You can't use most of your techniques without Nietono no Shana anyway. Reforging your sword is the next thing you're going to do. Even if it's something you've never done before, you know how.

* * *

Bill got a prefect badge from his school. Your mum was absolutely ecstatic about it, and your dad looked pretty happy too when he clapped him on the back in congratulations. It makes you want one when you go to Hogwarts. You make sure to excel in everything you do on principle, but it is an extra bit of motivation for you. You want to impress your family.

You're working hard to recreate your Treasure Tools every day. You painstakingly go over every detail to make sure you get it absolutely perfect. You finish a little bit more of your 'blueprint' every day. You're working on concentrating the Power of Existence in your room when you get up to take a break. When you come back from the bathroom, you hear what sounds suspiciously like snickering. You narrow your eyes and scan your surroundings, then tread carefully into your room.

You wait for a little bit, but when it becomes clear after fifteen minutes that nothing's going to happen, you relax your guard and start working on your project again. You dip your quill into the ink bottle and continue writing. As soon as the tip touches the parchment, you hear a faint hissing noise and it starts disintegrating rapidly before your eyes. You throw the quill on the floor frantically and try to salvage the rest, but it's all already gone.

You stare in shock at the parchment. All your efforts for today.. ruined..

Ruined.. ruined.. the word echoes through your head like a madman's mantra. A sense of clarity descends upon your consciousness. Your rage has surpassed ordinary rage and become cold fury. You walk briskly out of your room and yank Fred and George out from under the staircase. They gulp audibly.

"Uh, Fred.." George says nervously.

Fred has a horror-struck look on his face, and is taking slow backward steps. "George.. I can see fire burning in her eyes.."

You keep a hand gripped on each of their shoulders, and take a step deliberately forward.

"AHHH!" George screams girlishly. He twists away from your grasp, shoves Fred on top of you and starts booking it in the opposite direction. "Every twin for himself! Sorry, brother!" he calls as he retreats.

Fred curses loudly at his brother's betrayal. "You traitor..!" he shouts after him, shaking his fist from your tangled positions on the ground. You extract your limbs, get up and shake your head at the silhouette of George in the distance. He won't be spared. You turn your icy gaze onto Fred, who is paralyzed to the spot.

"Eheh.. heheh.. let's talk about this like reasonable people, yeah?" Fred asks weakly.

"I am very reasonable." you reply stoically.

* * *

They're both staring off into the wall at something only they can see. Their voices are robotic.

"There is an appropriate time and an inappropriate time for pranks. A true prankster can tell the difference." they say in unison.

You nod in satisfaction at your handy work, and brush your hands off. Out of the corner of your eye you see Ron enter the room.

"Hey, guys.." he says, before he's stopped short at the scene that greets him.

Fred turns toward his brother wearing a ghastly fake smile. "Hello, Ron. Did you know there is an appropriate time and an inappropriate time for pranks? A true prankster can tell the difference."

Ron stares at him, nonplussed. "..."

He shakes his head in exasperation. "I'll just be off then," he says wearily.

* * *

You learn from your mum and dad talking that there's a witch your age living close by. You've never had visitors over unless Floo calls count, and definitely nobody who you might be able to be friends with. You decide you're going to take advantage of this opportunity to proactively obtain a friend.

You simply ask your mum to have her over one day. She gleefully makes the arrangements, seizing on the chance to add another girl to the house for you to play with. She says that you're too violent and that the boys are a bad influence on you. You think she's either cultivated a remarkable capacity for self-delusion or she really isn't all that observant of what goes on in her house.

Your first meeting isn't anything special. She arrives at the Burrow with her parents, her hand clasped in her mother's. They both have the same dirty-blonde hair falling past their shoulders and are quite pretty. The adults make polite conversation while you motion for a reluctant Luna to part with her mother to join you in the living room. Luna looks to her mother for affirmation. When she nods her head in assent, Luna skips over next to you.

"Hi," she says softly.

You scrutinize her up and down, and huff in dissatisfaction. "This is how small I am?!" you exclaim.

You motion angrily with your hands, gesturing between you and Luna. "I can't believe you're taller than me. You're tiny!"

Luna looks confused. "I'm.. sorry..?" she says, phrasing it almost like a question.

Sighing heavily, you wave off her concerns. You take a seat on the couch and signal for her to take a seat with you. "No, it's alright. I just learned something unpleasant is all."

She pats your thigh soothingly. "It's okay," she says comfortingly.

You look away awkwardly. "..Thanks," you mumble.

That was the start of your friendship. Luna isn't the most talkative person around, but you prefer it that way. It sets her apart from the rest of your family. She's _your_ friend. When she comes over, she comes to see you, not anyone else. It's a nice feeling.

She's a very kind and gentle person. She seems to take after her mother that way, as every time you've seen her father he's been much more loud and outspoken. He must be taking up the slack for the both of them. What makes her most suitable as a friend is mostly her patience. She doesn't need to be doing something all the time, like a lot of young kids. You wouldn't be able to keep up a frenetic pace like that.

* * *

Luna pays a surprise visit today. You later learned that your mum set it up by offering to let Luna stay over while her parents went out on a date. Apparently they don't do that as much anymore, and your mum wanted to help them make it happen. You wouldn't really mind so much if you knew beforehand, but Luna has to simply hang out in your room while you work on Nietono no Shana and Yogasa. You can't interrupt the process to entertain her now, as you're in the final stages of materializing your creations.

"What're you doing?" Luna asks curiously.

"I'm reforging my sword and my battle gear." you reply tersely, most of your concentration on your work.

Luna tilts her head curiously. "Oh, that's nice."

"Mmm," you hum agreeably. The room is quiet for a few moments longer.

"It'll be done soon. I think I did a pretty good job, myself," you offer to fill the silence.

"I'm sure it will be lovely," Luna says kindly.

You smile as you work. Yes, it's not so bad having her over. Luna is a good friend.

With everything in place, you gesture for quiet and seat yourself in front of your gathered objects. A ratty old coat you scrounged up from the attic, and a plastic sword you found in your dad's barn. The quality of the items doesn't matter. You just need something to start from.

You shape the Power of Existence to your will, draining nearly everything you have in the process. You're going to do everything all at once. You might try your hand at reconstructing other Treasure Tools, but these two that you're intimately familiar with are so much easier to trace out perfectly.

"Haa.." you breathe heavily from the effort going into the forging. The coat's faded out brown-color is changing smoothly into coal-black, sleek folds. The plastic sword is becoming sharper, and the handle is becoming longer while the grip becomes firmer.

"Aah.. haa.." Your reserves are running dangerously low, but your project is almost complete. Sweat falls down your forehead into your eyes, obscuring your vision but not ruining your focus. You correct any imperfections as they form, beating the material into the exact shape that will make what you need.

Your blade is hungry for fire- helpful for you, as that kind of Unrestricted Method is the only kind you know inside and out. You'll be able to set the skies ablaze with Nietono no Shana once again. The blade is now indistinguishable from your beloved weapon, but you're still sure there's imperfections in the make that you need to smooth out. The same goes for your cloak.

It feels like an eternity, but it probably only took ten to fifteen minutes. You finish just before you have no Power of Existence left. You take up your sword reverently, and trace the flat edge of the blade with your finger. In your peripheral vision you can see Luna gazing wonderingly at you.

You let flame flow over the blade. It curls around it lovingly, and you smile contentedly. Though the blade is still a little too big for you to train with, you still recreated it perfectly. You pick up Yogasa and sling it around your shoulders. It adjusts itself to fit the user, so you don't have any problems there. You store Nietono no Shana inside Yogasa by sliding it in. Then you let Yogasa fade into the dimensional pocket.

"So? What do you think?" you ask Luna.

She still looks a little stunned at what just happened. "That was.. awesome!" Luna says loudly. She tackles you to the floor laughing, and you can't help but join in. It's the most animated you've ever seen her about anything. She spends the rest of the visit asking you about them, how you made them, and what they can do. You entertain her questions with a smile and give her a hug goodbye when she leaves.

Percy left for Hogwarts this year. You don't ever see much of him because he's so quiet, and keeps to himself as much as you do. It's sad to say, but you hardly notice much difference between when he's there and when he isn't.

* * *

You want your wings back. It's not so much that you enjoy flying, you just hate not having the option. Trying to move somewhere quickly without your wings is just agonizingly slow.

It's why you're directing your efforts toward reclaiming them. The trigger is proving elusive for you. It was so easy when you had a hand to reach for or a goal in sight, but without any particular impetus other than your own will, it's hard to summon your wings.

You dip your hand into your dimensional pocket and take out Yogasa. You don it, then extract Nietono no Shana from it as well. It slides out from thin air near your hip, and you grip it firmly with both hands once it's fully materialized. Maybe with your Treasure Tools to remind you of yourself, you can bring to mind the drive and focus you require.

Nietono no Shana is still too big in your hands. It's not like you can't use it, but you can't wield it properly until you grow closer to your adult height. It's not like you even have anyone to practice your swordplay with. You let these thoughts slide past your conscious brain, acknowledging but not pursuing them.

The spark catches fire briefly, then sputters out. You grimace in disappointment as you look over your shoulder. You almost had it then. You need to maintain your focus more strictly. You take up a stance and send a tendril of flame to slither around your blade. You send out your power.. and your wings burst into existence behind you.

You kick off from the ground hard, and soar up into the skies above. You leave a trail of flame right behind you as you sail through the air. You have a peaceful smile on your face as you glide through the clouds, as if you're entirely at home in the skies. Which you are; any high level combat occurs off the ground. Limiting yourself to two dimensions is just stupid.

You're not at top form; you make a lot of rough turns and your landing is awkward. Not to mention, your mid-air sword-fighting is probably lackluster as well. You might not be able to do much about the latter without a sparring partner, but you'll work on your flying as the year goes on, at least; you won't let yourself be clumsy in the air.

You find yourself desiring Luna's company. So, you make sure you can spend time together whenever you can manage it. Luna stops by the Burrow a couple more times before the opportunity finally arises for you to visit Luna's house. You made it clear that you wanted to visit, so she eventually managed to talk her parents into it.

You burst into Luna's house via the Floo. You brush off the dust from the fireplace and look around. There's a hum in the background of some kind of machinery. It must be elsewhere in the house, for it sounds distant and you can't see anything in sight that could be emitting the noise. Luna and her mother are waiting for you. Luna's mother greets you kindly and directs Luna to show you around.

There are the same kind of rooms that are in your house; a kitchen, a living room, a dining room, and some bedrooms, but there's also a few odd places and things. There's a printing press running that is the source of the hum you heard earlier churning out editions of a magazine called 'The Quibbler.' The decorations about the house are also rather bizarre. A collection of odd objects are displayed occasionally about, sometimes with a plaque beneath describing it.

The architecture is also very different. You can't really tell from the inside, but as you keep going up to get to Luna's room, this building must be quite tall. The stairs go on for quite a while.

Once you finally make it to Luna's room, you both take a seat on her bed. She takes a frame off her nightstand and shows you a newly developed picture of the two of you laughing together. They both wave and smile when they see you and Luna looking at them. It brings a smile to your face. You want one of those.

You get up and wander over to the window. You lean outside, considering whether you should jump out or not to get a better look at the oddly-shaped house. You close your eyes and concentrate. Your wings come to life across your shoulders. You give a meaningful look to Luna, and prepare yourself to crawl out of the window. You're interrupted by the door to the bedroom swinging open.

_"I knew it!"_ a shout exclaims from the doorway. Turning your gaze in that direction, you see that Luna's dad, Xenophilius, is standing there with his finger pointed dramatically at you. Or, more precisely, at the wings sprouting from your back.

You stare back apprehensively. Xenophilius looks like the cat who caught the canary, as if he's finally backed a suspect into a corner. You wait to see what he's going to say. You tense your body up and ready yourself for sudden action should the need arise. You spare a quick glance toward Luna, but she's simply watching the scene before her with a pleasant smile.

"All these years.." he intones ominously. "All these years, the Weasleys have been waiting.. and they've finally done it!"

Your stress becomes confusion. What is he talking about? He continues his monologue, heedless of your expression. "By breeding exclusively with other red-haired people for generations upon generations, they have finally attracted the attention of a fire spirit! The seventh child.. the only girl.. yes, it all aligns perfectly!" he finishes.

The tension falls out of you all at once. You surreptitiously close the dimensional pocket you were about to pull your Treasure Tools from, and hope that nobody noticed. Xenophilius kneels on the ground before you, speaking reverently. "Greetings, O honored spirit. I know not why you have descended upon the mortal plane, but know that I, Xenophilius Lovegood, shall always be available should you ever have need of me."

He smiles proudly at his daughter, whose own smile brightens in return. "I hope you and my daughter will be wonderful friends." He bows deeply, straightens up, and then skitters from the room while muttering excitedly to himself. Your eyes linger on the room's threshold, thinking about Luna's oddball father. Luna's voice brings you back to the present.

"Are you really a fire spirit?" she asks, her head tilted curiously.

You consider the question for a moment. "..No, but he's not as far off as you might think."

Luna giggles helplessly, putting a hand to her mouth. You think intently on something. You reach your hand out toward Luna for her to grasp. When she takes it, you lead her over to the window and smile at her. Luna's eyes shine with excitement.

You hold her close and shove off the window, gliding forward then turning 180 degrees around to get a good view of the house. It looks like a tower from the outside, and not like a house at all. It rests at the top of a decently-sized hill, and is the only house around for quite a while. Your own house is like that too, but you _are_ in a very rural area.

You fly up to the very top of the house and come to a rest on the roof. You set Luna down next to you and sit down with her, dangling your legs over the edge. You enjoy the rest of the afternoon talking with Luna and enjoying the cool daytime breeze. You didn't even get in trouble for it. Luna's dad apparently trusts your flying abilities already.

All of the boys are in the house and back from the summer. Bill got his Head Boy badge in the post for his seventh year. Charlie made prefect too. Your mother was beside herself hugging and congratulating them both. Expectations for everyone else are already starting to rise. Percy has been hitting his Hogwarts books relentlessly.

With all the boys home, and Bill being here for the summer for the last time before he gets his own place, it's the perfect time to establish the pecking order. With you at the top, obviously.

The first phase begins as everyone chips in to degnome the garden. There's always a competition to see who can throw a gnome the farthest. You're pretty strong. You don't know if you can outdo Charlie or Bill, but you can certainly try. If you throw it just right, you should be able to.

Bill and Charlie have already thrown a couple; Bill has the record, and Charlie's not far behind. You find an especially deserving victim when you spot a gnome popping out of a hole in the ground to jeer at you.

"Nyeheheh!" It laughs unpleasantly, blowing a raspberry and pinching it's nose with it's knobbly little fingers. You narrow your eyes at the audacity of this one. It must think you look less threatening than Bill and Charlie on the other side of the garden. Your hand darts out and grabs it before it can duck back into its hole.

"Ahk.. errk.." It struggles in your pincer grip, flailing its arms about ineffectually. You coil your body tightly, dropping your arm low to the ground and ready yourself to fling the little parasite. You spin once around to build momentum, then let it fly. It shrieks in terror as you let it go.

The scream fades in volume as the gnome flies high and out of sight. "AAAAAAaaaahhahhhhhhh..!"

Everyone's eyes follow it across the sky. A barely audible thunk can be heard as it hits the ground in the distance. It's made it just past Bill's. There's a tangible silence as the rest of the boys stare at you. The twins are looking slightly green, and Ron simply looks incredulous. Bill and Charlie look surprised too, but Bill just breaks the silence by laughing.

"Haha. I guess Ginny wins? Nice one, sis." he says with a good-natured smile. You grin with satisfaction at your accomplishment. You suspect that Bill might have been able to beat it if he really tried, but he decided not to. You shrug. A win is a win.

* * *

Your next power to recreate is your utility fire. With it, you can view far-off locations and communicate over long distances. Owls are just ridiculously slow at getting word to anyone. You can't believe no one has figured out how to do that faster with magic. Muggles are already ahead of the wizards when it comes to long-distance communication.

It's not too hard to recreate this power. It was very hard to learn it at first; you need a lot of mental flexibility in order to utilize it. But, now that you can do it, and you can remember yourself doing it, it's just like getting back on a bike. You project your consciousness outside of your body for just a few moments.

A symbol of fire appears in the air resembling an eye. Looking out from it, you can see out from the roof of your house. The sun is setting over the horizon, and your mum is hanging clothes up in the backyard. You let the spell fall. You need to test the communications part now.

"Shinban." you intone. Your point of view shifts into another part of the house, and a flaming eye appears in the air over the coffee table. You spot the twins conversing in the living room.

"I see you," you call.

They both leap off the couch and look around fearfully. Their eyes widen when they spot the fire symbol you're projecting. "..?!" They turn tail and start running out of the room, so you call out again.

"Stop that," you command.

They freeze in their tracks and turn around slowly. "..Ginny?" Fred says tentatively, recognizing your voice.

"Yes. I just needed a test subject. Thanks."

You let the manifestation drop and return to your own body. Your experiment is a complete success. It also neatly wraps up phase two. You're vulnerable while you're casting Shinban, but it's not a combat spell anyway. Unless a sneak attack hits you while you're using it, it shouldn't be a problem.

* * *

It's time for the annual Weasley Quidditch match, and phase three, the final phase. It's a beautiful sunny morning, the sun still making it's ascent through the sky. Your dad is playing referee, your mum is inside making lunch, and everyone else is getting ready to play. Percy's been cajoled against his will into playing, which is where you spot your chance. He'd surely be grateful to have you take his spot. You close your eyes, concentrate, and will your crimson wings to alight.

When you open your eyes, you see Ron looking at you with an expression conveying horrified fascination.

"Are those real?" he asks, reaching his hand out.

"Don't-" you begin sharply.

He ignores your warning, and brushes his fingers against your left wing. He yanks his hand backward and yelps loudly after he makes contact.

"-do that. Fire is hot, idiot." you finish derisively.

"Ow, ow, ow.." he moans piteously. He sucks on his fingers tenderly, and glares balefully at your wings floating in the breeze.

"Can I play?" you ask pointedly.

Percy looks at Bill hopefully. Everyone else is looking mesmerized at your wings floating on the breeze. Bill shrugs and says, "Yeah, alright." Percy brightens up and races back into the house to get back to his schoolwork. Bill shakes his head exasperatedly.

Charlie and Bill are playing seeker opposite each other. You and Fred team up as chasers with Charlie against Ron and George with Bill. You have some makeshift goals set up enchanted to hover off the ground on opposite ends of the field, though they're not as high as a true Quidditch pitch.

Your dad lets loose the snitch, and then throws the quaffle into the air. You dart forward and snatch it out of the air. It's way too big for you to handle with one hand.

You maneuver your way around George and Ron with ease to score your first goal. Their broomsticks are very old models, not able to make sharp turns or quick accelerations. If they were more high quality brooms, they might stand a chance at blocking you, but as it is, you can fly circles around them. It's good aerial maneuverability practice.

You have to rely on Fred to play defense whenever Ron or George get the quaffle. Unless you want to blast them out of the sky with fire, you just can't body-block them hard enough to knock the quaffle loose. Whenever Fred forces a pass or knocks the ball loose, you're there to grab it up or take the hand-off from Fred. From there, it's the Ginny Weasley show until you put it through the hoops. The seekers are playing their own battle high above the chasers; you know the snitch is charmed to fly higher than the altitude you guys are playing at.

You're up 140-20 when your dad signals the end of the match. You look up to see Charlie triumphantly holding the snitch up and Bill gliding over to congratulate him. You pump your fist triumphantly. A magnificent victory; 290-20. It would have been terrible to lose with such a ridiculous lead. Your sport's rules are really very stupid, even more-so when none of you could really affect what happened with the seekers.

Bill and Charlie float down to the rest of you. "Haa.. you win." Bill says, panting slightly. Charlie barely looks winded at all, and seems like he's still on an adrenaline high.

"Bloody hell, that was _amazing_, Ginny! You've got to ask McGonagall if you can play like that!" he says excitedly. "Well, assuming you're in Gryffindor, I mean." he adds as an afterthought.

Bill taps his chin in thought. "Hmm.. I think I remember reading about a player who didn't use a broom a couple centuries ago. It might be allowed," he says.

Your dad goes to put the brooms away as the kids start heading back to the house. Ron has a troubled look on his face, and keeps surreptitiously glancing at you every few seconds.

Eventually he bursts out, "You guys.. isn't this kind of.. impossible? How is she doing all this?! This isn't magic, it's.. it's.."

"Crazy?" Fred offers, nodding vociferously.

"Insane?" George adds, shaking his head ruefully.

All three of them look toward their older brothers, who've stopped walking. They halt as well, and exchange perplexed looks at the silence in the clearing.

"Heh. Heheh." Charlie's chortling, drawing confused stares from Ron and the twins.

Bill shakes his head, smiling wryly. "Guys, once you've got a few years of Hogwarts under your belt you'll have a different opinion. Trust me. So our sister has some rare magical abilities. That's cool, not insane."

Ron gains a look of dawning comprehension. "I.. I guess you're right, Bill."

Fred and George also look thoughtful. You think your plan to establish the pecking order has worked masterfully.. although, you feel you have to revise it a little bit. Bill is always at the top, but that's alright with you. You cough loudly.

"Are you all done now?" you say, tapping your foot impatiently. Really, why haven't you started walking again?

"Yes, sister," they reply in unison.


	3. Reclamation

You want to get a closer look at just what your dad is doing in that barn of his. It has to have something to do with all the muggle devices and things that he brings in there. Does he like taking them apart to see how they work? Is he trying to do magic on them? Whatever the case is, you're going to find out.

You slide open the backdoor quietly and shut it behind you. Your dad is crouched down on the ground, fiddling with a bulky rectangular device. You lean over to get a closer look. It's a portable game system judging by the screen, buttons, and cartridge slid in the back. Your dad is trying to get some batteries to fit inside. "You've got these in backwards," you point out.

Your dad jumps, startled. "Whoa! Oh, Ginny. I didn't notice you come in."

You reach over his shoulder with your hand and insert the batteries properly. "They go like this," you demonstrate.

Your dad exhales in realization. "Ohh, my mistake."

You get a better look at everything in here. There's a car with a white sheet draped over it on one side of the barn, and there are tables lined up against the opposite wall with the strangest variety of knick-knacks, doodads, and thingamabobs resting on it. Batteries of all kinds, cords, plugs, screwdrivers, and even a chainsaw.

You also notice a lamp with a cord running into the barn wall. You follow it with your fingers to see it's actually plugged into an outlet. You look at your dad quizzically. "..? You have electricity down here? I've never seen any power lines.." you say, pondering.

He turns his attention to what you're looking at. "Oh, that. I got a nice eccel-trician to set it up for me. Isn't it wonderful?" he asks brightly.

Striding over to the lamp, he flips the switch, and the bulb lights up. "Look, it lights up without any magic at all! Ingenious!" he says excitedly. He picks up another lamp beside this one and looks forlornly at the plug at the end. It's a different shape from the first lamp's plug, and it clearly wouldn't fit into the outlet on the wall.

"This one doesn't fit though.. I wonder if it's broken," he wonders.

You examine it more closely. "It's not broken. You need an adapter. You could probably buy one in an electronics shop," you say.

That would actually be a good way to help your dad out. You can think of a few things off the top of your head that he doesn't have here that he might find interesting. "We're going to go do that now," you decide.

"We are?" your dad asks, surprised.

You nod affirmatively, grabbing your dad's arm and leading him out of the barn. "Yes, you have muggle money, right?" you question as you walk.

"That's no problem," he explains. He extracts his wand from his pocket and waves it. A stack of twenty pound notes appears from thin air and falls into his outstretched hands. Your eyebrows raise at the amount of wealth that must be in his hands. That's a thick stack of notes.

"Those don't all have the same serial number, do they?" you wonder.

"The same what?" your dad replies questioningly.

"..." You stop dragging your dad and give him a funny look. You shake your head exasperatedly and continue walking. "Never mind, it's not like they can arrest us for counterfeiting.." you say.

You head over to the closest city to search for a place to shop. You stride down the busy street holding your dad's hand. He lets you take the lead. You scan your surroundings for an appropriate destination. You find one right away. "A department store. Yes, this is where we should go. Follow me," you order.

"I thought we were going to an ecceltricity shop?" your dad asks, confused.

You flick an annoyed glance at your dad. "It's pronounced electricity. Say it with me. Ee-leck-triss-ih-tee," you enunciate carefully.

"Ee-leck-triss-ih-tee," he repeats dutifully. You nod and smile encouragingly.

"Now say it normally," you command.

He scrunches up his face in concentration. "Ecceltricity," he says quickly, the word tumbling out of his mouth.

You give him a flat look. "..Are you doing this on purpose?" you growl.

He looks away to hide his smile. "Heheh," he chortles.

You pick up quite a lot of things to take back home. You're just glad that the cashier accepted your money. If they'd paid any attention at all to the serial number on the notes, they'd have realized they were all identical. Your dad shrunk everything with one charm and made it light with another so that you could carry it all home.

Back in the barn, your dad enlarges all the goods back to their normal size. You plug everything in and start at the head of the row of new acquisitions to demonstrate for your dad, who's waiting patiently.

"This is a television," you explain. You flip it on and a muggle news show appears on the screen. You're not disappointed by your dad's reaction, which is that of a kid in a candy store.

"Moving pictures? Wow! And sound, too? It's like a portrait!" your dad exclaims.

"It's a broadcast. That's actually happening somewhere else right now," you tell him. You also show him the remote control, and how to use it to change the volume, turn it on or off, or change the channel. He was just as excited about that too.

You move on to the next item. "That's a microwave. It heats up food." You place the TV-dinner you bought into it and set the timer. "Observe."

When the timer beeps, you open it up and offer up a piece of processed chicken. He takes it and eats it as if it was the richest delicacy he'd ever eaten. The mind is a truly versatile organ if it can deceive him into thinking _that's _delicious cuisine.

"A refrigerator," you say, pointing to the last object. "This one is for freezing, this one is for cooling." He puts his hand in each, noting the difference in temperatures. He takes his hand out and nods, impressed.

You poke his stomach. "Now, get to improving. I know Mum has a radio, so some wizard somewhere figured out how to make one for other wizards. You should be able to come up with something, right?" you ask rhetorically.

Your dad scratches his chin in thought. "Hmmm. We already have storage and heating charms. This television though.. it's quite something. I wonder.." he trails off. He walks over to it and starts casting some kind of diagnostic charm on it. After ten minutes you can only assume he's forgotten you're there.

"You're welcome," you call out from the door as you leave.

* * *

The twins have some lengthy reports for you. Information on the teachers is something you asked for specifically, and they don't disappoint. They don't bother writing anything about the DADA teacher; the position is widely believed to be cursed, so there's no real point when the teacher changes every year. There's plenty of information on the other teachers, however. You'll make sure to keep these notes handy for when you attend.

They also tell you that they've acquired an item of incredible utility, and that they've found some new inspiration to become better pranksters. You look forward to seeing just what 'item' they have. It should be something good if what the twins have to say about it is even half-true.

* * *

You set your sights on reclaiming your _Shinku _ability. You can still remember the time you spent training with Margery trying to perfect the technique. The ability conjures a great flaming fist as an extension of your sword-arm. You project it forward and slam into your opponent in a powerful punch. You can form _Shinku _as a simple mid-range attack, but its true strength lies in pushing back an opposing force. It should overwhelm any incoming wizardry if they're cast toward each other. _Shinku _combines defense and offense perfectly into one move.

You need a sparring partner to do this properly. A more powerful force can still overwhelm your punch and cause the move to backfire, which is why you need to be able to put a lot of power into it. For now, you simply fly up in the air and fire them off into the ground. Judging by how much of an imprint you make in the earth below, you can gauge how powerful your strike was. You set aside an area deep in the backyard and burn away the grass in the area for a practice spot, then summon your wings and ascend high into the air.

You pull your arm back and focus intently. The fist of flame materializes behind your shoulder. "Haaaah..!" you shout, thrusting your arm forward. The fire arm surges forward and the fist impacts on the ground with a large crash. You descend toward the ground to get a better look.

It's a little disappointing. The dirt is pressed in, making the ground uneven, but it's only a couple inches deep. You can barely tell from a distance that you did anything at all. You take to the skies again.

You charge up your swing. You're going to make this one count. "Hyaaaahhhh!" you scream, sending your _Shinku_ hurtling toward the ground. There's a deafening _bang_ as it smashes into the dirt. You pant heavily from the exertion as you lower yourself back down.

That's much better. The ground has been pressed so hard downward that it almost looks like a natural part of the landscape. You've made a reverse hill out here. Your focus was much-improved that time, even if it's still not perfect. You should be able to do that faster. It costs the same amount of power no matter how you cast it, whether your _Shinku_ is weak or strong.

* * *

You're hanging out at Luna's house. You're conversing on the bed in her room when you hear a loud _boom_ coming from somewhere else in the house. You look at each other quizzically, and get up off the bed. You peek out of your room and try to find the source of the noise. "What happened? you wonder aloud.

"Maybe the printing press broke.." Luna guesses. It's evident that's not the case as you pass it, though. It's still churning out new editions like normal.

Luna's eyes start to look fearful as you narrow down the places it could've come from. The basement.. her mum's laboratory. You can see smoke wafting up from the doorway to the basement. You walk down the steps, full of trepidation. The scene that awaits you is nightmarish. The place is completely wrecked; there's clutter strewn about the floor, the large wooden desk is in pieces everywhere, and what's left is on fire. Luna's mother is lying in a pool of her own blood, and her leg has been impaled by a large splinter of wood.

You hear Luna scream shrilly next to you. "Mum..? MUM..!" she shouts hysterically, rushing down the final steps. She stops just short of where she's lying and sits there silently, crying over her body.

You spot Xenophilius standing in a corner of the room. He must have gotten here first. He's staring at the scene like he can't believe what's happening right in front of him. You stride over to him angrily. "Pull yourself together, damnit!" you shout.

"I.." he says weakly.

You grab him by the arm and yank him down to eye level. "Are you a man? Get her to St. Mungos while she still has a chance! She's not dead unless you stand there like an idiot!" you yell harshly.

Some of the life returns to his eyes, and he swallows thickly. Turning his gaze toward his wife he says, "I'll take her. We'll go by Floo, just call out 'St. Mungo's Emergency Floor' with the powder to follow after. Look after Luna, _please._"

You walk over to Luna and tap her on the shoulder. "Come on. Your dad is here," you tell her. She's non-responsive, and lets you raise her to her feet and lead her out of the basement behind Xenophilius and his wife.

"She'll be fine. He'll save her," you say reassuringly.

Before you take the Floo, you borrow the Lovegood's owl to send a message back to the Burrow about what happened, briefly. You shouldn't just disappear on them.

You arrive at St. Mungo's Hopsital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. You spot Luna's dad in the lobby, his head in his hands and the world on his shoulders. You take a seat with Luna next to him. Luna still hasn't said a word since she saw her mum's blood-covered body. She doesn't seem like she's 'existing' in the same world as everyone else. Her eyes are far-off, looking at something only she can see.

You receive word from a healer who motions for your group to come over. "She'll be fine," he says shortly, before disappearing into the back again.

Luna slumps in relief beside you. It takes another hour, but you're allowed to visit her eventually. You find her lying in a hospital bed peacefully, breathing lightly and looking healthy. Her injuries included some serious trauma, but the healers were able to do their jobs and heal them quickly when she was brought in. All she has to do now is take a lot of blood-replenishing potions and she should be fine.

Your mum comes to pick you up from the hospital not long after you learn the prognosis. You say goodbye to Luna and her dad. "Thank you," Luna says quietly but firmly. She hugs you tightly, and you can feel tears falling down onto your shoulders as you hold each other. "Thank you.." she murmurs into your ear.

You smile brightly at her, trying to remind her to be happy. She gives you a watery smile in return. Xenophilius bows low in goodbye, and you leave the hospital with your mum.

* * *

You believe it's time to test your combat abilities. You haven't been in a fight in a long time. You want to gauge where you stand in relation to other witches and wizards. To that end, you sent a letter to Bill asking him to meet with you. You don't think your parents would agree to spar with you. You set up a time and place to come over and talk.

You let your mum know that you're heading over to Bill's place for the day. You show up in the late afternoon via Floo powder. He leads you to the kitchen and pours a cup of tea for the both of you. "So, what's this about, Ginny?" he asks.

"I want to fight you," you state clearly and succinctly.

He gives you a funny look. "What?" he asks confusedly, as if he's not sure he heard you right.

"I want to fight you," you repeat slowly. You elaborate some more, "I can do a lot more than just fly. I want to try out some things."

He still looks hesitant. "I don't know.."

"Come on, it'll be fun. Nobody will get hurt," you whine with a pout.

Bill runs a hand through his hair, looking reluctant. Then he sighs in resignation. "You're setting me up, aren't you.." he says with a smile.

"Well, alright. I have a space out back we can use." He levitates the tea cups over to the sink and leads the way out to the backyard. You follow him out the door, moving a good distance away from the house. When he stops, you take your spot opposite him on the grass, the distance between you about twenty feet. The dueling arena is just a wide open flat space with no trees or cover around.

"Ready?" he calls, his wand loose at his side.

You smile grimly. "You bet," you reply. You raise your hand and make a 'come at me' gesture with your fingers. Bill responds in kind by flicking his wand and throwing a jet of light racing toward you. You react instantly, leaping to the side and letting the spell pass you.

It's just a spar. There's a competitive element, but you're fighting most of all to hone your skills. It's why you're starting the battle on the ground and not taking to the air immediately. It's possible you might one day have to fight without having the advantage of flight due to closed quarters. You shouldn't become reliant on that mode of combat.

You keep on your toes, waiting for him to try another spell. This time he shoots multiple spells in quick succession. You hop to the left to avoid the stream of light, then dance back to the right as soon as it passes to avoid the other two spells sent into your original dodging path. Your timing is impeccable; you slipped just in between the two jets of light before they could collide with you. The missile speed was incredibly fast on those spells; you only just avoided behind hit.

Bill looks impressed and laughs. "Ha.. you've already learned the most important defense lesson: how to dodge. You're making me look silly, Ginny," he says, smiling wryly. He rolls up the sleeves on his robes and points his wand at you aggressively.

"I know that's not all you can do. I'll force you to open your wings..!" he boasts challengingly.

He rains down spells in staccato bursts, trying to pin you down. You're satisfied that Bill, even if he didn't really want to do this, is at least taking it seriously. Obviously, he's not using any seriously harmful or destructive attacks, but neither are you. You're not trying to kill each other.

You're forced into a defensive roll to duck under a red jet of light, and that's when Bill seizes his chance, throwing another red stream into your crouched position. You can't see it while you're dodging, but you can instinctively grasp that it's coming. You won't have enough time to dodge in any direction.. but you won't have to. You straighten up out of your roll, pull back your arm, and thrust forward.

"_Shinku!_" you shout. A fist twice your size extends out from your position and dissolves the incoming spell on contact. It continues onward to crash into Bill himself, whose eyes have gone wide in surprise.

He throws up a shield at the last second, but the fiery fist punches straight through it, shattering it on impact. You can tell that it at least blunted a lot of the power behind your attack, but he's still blown backward off his feet. "Oof-!" he grunts as he hits the ground. That was a satisfying hit; you bet he's got a sizable bruise on his chest. You don't follow up on the opening. You're here to practice and get better, not to win at all costs.

He rises back into a standing position, but you can tell he's still winded from your strike. "It went right through my stunner_ and_ my shield, and I didn't even see it coming. That's a powerful dueling spell," he comments appreciatively, gasping slightly.

The fight recommences. Bill is getting tired a lot faster than you are. The volume of spells he's using to attack you is taking its toll on him. This battlefield favors you completely, with all this room to play in. You haven't even needed to unfurl your wings.

You jump out of the way of another spell, and force back the followup. "_Shinku!" _you cry.

He rolls to the side this time instead of projecting a shield. Your attack sails wide, and he quickly fires off a spell while you're effectively immobilized in mid-cast. "You won't fool me twice, Ginny!"

You dissolve the flame hand as fast as you can and kick off the ground hard. "Haaa..!" Blazing wings burst into existence from your shoulders and you overlook the battlefield from your lofty perch.

Bill looks satisfied at his minor victory. You decide to give him something to think about. You flick your arm forward. "_Hien!_" you shout.

A wall of flame threatens to envelop Bill as it crashes down on him. You make sure the flames dissipate before they burn the landscape, and for a moment you're worried Bill couldn't defend himself. Your worries are unfounded. The shield he conjured before is still materialized in front of him. It protected him from your attack. He lets the shield drop.

Your breadth of experience with wizards, especially combat wizards, is woefully inadequate, but you've made some headway in this spar. You can't say how Bill stacks up to other wizards, but he's a good starting point to figure out how wizards are likely to react to your abilities, and how to play their reactions against them. It's also important to figure out how you can be countered, so that you won't ever be surprised by what an opponent might do.

You extract Nietono no Shana from the imaginary folds in your cloak. You're getting bigger, stronger, taller, and faster as you grow up. Wielding it is no problem; but you'll have to keep adjusting your movements as you continue getting older. You grip it with both hands and glare down at Bill, pointing the sword straight at him. "I'm coming for you, brother!" you call out.

You sail easily past the spells he fires up at you. You even manage to look graceful doing it. There's no way he can halt your advance. When you close in on him, he throws up another shield. You bring your sword down and slash straight through the bubble as you land right in front of Bill. The shield melts away as you cut Nietono no Shana through it. You point your blade at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Man, Shield Charms aren't working at all.." Bill complains.

You grip your sword with both hands and fall into a ready stance. Your wings float gently in the breeze behind you. You jump into the air and attack him from above. Before he can fire a point-blank spell off at you, you smack the wand out of his hand. He's forced onto the defensive completely, trying to duck and weave away from your strikes with limited success. You fight with the flat edge, rapping his sides, his arms, and his legs; any part you can reach.

You aim a sideways slash at his torso, but he manages to dart forward with his arm and catch your wrist. At first, he's smiling victoriously at you as you stare at each other, but it turns to horrified fascination as you wrench your arm free with a mighty tug. You lean back into a coiled stance, then snap forward and slash rapidly in sequence. You sheathe your sword and let it fade into your dimensional pocket and wait.

Bill blinks. "Aah..?!"

His robes fall off piece by piece until he's in nothing but his boxer shorts. His cheeks turn as red as his hair and he quickly scoops up the remnants of his clothes to protect his modesty.

You put your hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles. "Ehehehe.."

Bill quickly snatches his wand up from the ground nearby. "_Reparo.._" he murmurs, and the clothes repair themselves. He puts his robes back on quickly while you avert your eyes politely.

He extends his hand for you to shake, and you grab it. "You win. Just.. don't recant that last part. Please? For me?" he asks hopefully.

"Hmm.." you say, keeping the handshake going. You can seem him attempting not to shift nervously.

You nod and smile brightly. "I just wanted you to squirm a little. Your embarrassing secret is safe," you promise.

Your smile becomes a little evil while you walk back to the house together. "For now."

"Yes, sister," he says, bowing his head.

You allow yourself a smug smile. It feels good to be on top.

* * *

It's time to reclaim the last of your attack spells, the Great Crimson Blade. You fly low to the ground away from your house one afternoon, searching for a deserted spot with no onlookers. Once you're satisfied that your practice will proceed interrupted, you equip your Treasure Tools and hover in the air with Nietono no Shana grasped in both hands.

"Aaaahhh..." Flames lick around the edges of the blade. A tiny fireball forms at the point, slowly expanding in size. You feed your Power of Existence into the attack, willing it to grow larger. You raise your sword above your head and prepare to swing downward. The fireball hovering above you has grown to twice your size and it's only getting bigger.

"HYAAAAAAAHH..!" you scream from the effort required, bringing Nietono no Shana down in a colossal slash. The fireball becomes a wave of flame crashing downward into the earth. It smashes into the ground with the force of a bomb, producing an enormous _bang_ and sinking into the ground before the flames lick up the sides of the newly formed crater and peter out.

You descend to admire your handiwork, sheathing your sword. The crater is deep enough that you can't see out standing on the bottom at the deepest part. It's at least twenty feet in diameter in a perfect circle around you. You sail up and return home before anyone can come investigate. The sound of the impact was probably heard for miles around.

* * *

You munch on some oatmeal and mull over your final acquisition. From here, all you can do is keep up your practice so your skills don't deteriorate, and adjust for your growing body. You've relearned all of your old techniques. You might pick up some new tricks, or try your hand at reforging some of the other Treasure Tools, but you've reclaimed all your basic skills. Your dad pulls you aside after you finish eating. You look at him expectantly.

"Ginny? Can I talk to you for a moment?" he asks.

He sits down on the couch and motions for you to take a seat next to him. "I.. well. I know we haven't really ever said anything about.. you know," he begins awkwardly.

"But, er.. you really should be exercising more caution when you use your powers. You're not casting any spells that I know of, so I feel comfortable saying you're not breaking the law, but.. well. If you go and make huge craters in the countryside, people are going to notice," he says, laughing weakly.

Your mouth forms a surprised 'o.' You wonder how he managed to deduce it was you. Well, if he just lined up the times on when the crater appeared and when you left the house, it would be obvious. "Oh. Sorry. It's fine, I only needed to practice it once anyway," you reply dismissively.

He grimaces slightly. "That's not really what I meant.."

He looks at you seriously, putting his hand on your thigh and looking you in the eyes. "Breaking the Statute of Secrecy is a serious offense, Ginny. Nobody witnessed it this time, but.."

You flick your hair out of your eyes, breathing a sigh of annoyance. "I know. I'm not stupid. Like I said, I only needed to practice it once," you repeat.

Your dad runs his hand through his hair, looking frustrated and exhaling a long breath. "Haa.. well, I suppose you've always been remarkably responsible. I'll put my trust in you. Don't make me regret it. Molly will kill me," he says half-jokingly.

* * *

Luna's mum is let out of the hospital a few days after the accident. You spend some time hanging over at Luna's place. You're lying together on her bed reading through old copies of _The Quibbler, _when you turn to ask Luna if they figured out what caused the accident in the first place. She doesn't respond right away, reading the last few sentences on the page, before she shakes her head negatively in answer.

"She can't talk about it. I don't mind. I don't like to remember, anyway," she says with a shudder. She still isn't quite over the shocking sight of her mum on the verge of death. You can only imagine how much worse it might have been if she hadn't made it.

You're still curious about her response. She said 'can't,' not 'won't.' "Can't? Why?" you ask.

She rolls over on the bed to face you. "She's working in the Department of Mysteries now. Some people from the Ministry came and talked to her about it, and they told her not to say anything about what she was doing, not even to me and dad. We understand," she explains.

"I see.." you reply. You don't really see, but you figure that the reason Luna isn't curious about it, is that she's simply glad her mum's alright. If it were you, you'd want to know everything that went on so you could make sure it wouldn't happen again, but you don't think that's in Luna's nature. She doesn't shy away from conflict necessarily, but she doesn't go seeking it out if she doesn't have to.

You excuse yourself from the room to grab a bite to eat, but a queer sight in one of the spare rooms stops you. Xenophilius is in there with buckets of different color paint arrayed on the floor on copies of _The Daily Prophet. _He's charmed several brushes to act independently to paint an enormous life-size portrait resting on a large easel in the middle of the empty room.

You walk into the room, transfixed by the painting in progress. "That's..?" you whisper.

That's an amazingly close rendition of you as a Flame Haze. Your hair is fanned out behind you on the breeze, and flickering embers are captured midair as they fall to the ground. Your eyes are prominently accented so as to look like they're blazing brightly. You're wearing your black cloak, Yogasa, and you have two hands gripping Nietono no Shana in a ready pose. You look older in the picture; your features are not quite so childishly round as they are now. The fiery wings are the final addition being currently painted.

"I didn't know you were an artist," you say after you finish examining the artwork.

Xenophilius turns and regards you with a bright smile. The brushes keep on going in the background. "I am a man of many talents! But.." His face falls.

"I must confess my skills are woefully inadequate to properly capture your glorious visage," he laments.

You shake your head. "No, it's good," you say. It really is. Granted, he's not personally painting it, but whatever charm he's using is imitating the skills of a world-class painter. That counts in your book.

He beams at your reaction. "Thank you! It shall be the centerpiece of my collection. What do you think I should name it?" he asks, turning to regard his creation.

You look at the image of yourself. It's not a perfect recreation of what you used to look like. It's purely coincidence that he's so close to you-as-Shana, but still.. "..Call it 'The Blazing Eyed Flame-Haired Hunter," you say.

Xeniphilius nods agreeably at your suggestion. "Mmm, yes, truly fitting."


	4. Into the Night

There is a certain void in your life that has been growing steadily larger and more noticeable as you grow up. You've had lots of sweet things; your mum's culinary skills are prodigious, even if you personally couldn't cook your way out of a paper bag. But you still haven't found a treat to compare with your favorite: the wonderfully soft, sugary, delicious melon bread.

You were horrified when you learned your mum had never heard of it and had no idea how to make it. What kind of barbarian clan had you been reborn into?! Still, you could bear its absence for a little while. Eventually, you'd pass a shop in Diagon Alley or spot a muggle vendor that could supply you with melon bread. But it didn't happen that way. You've had to go ten long, grueling years without a single taste of the heavenly pastry.

It all changes today. You've made a pact with yourself; you will not stop searching until you find a source of melon bread. No sleep. No resting or break times. You swear upon Nietono no Shana that you will succeed. The plan: Venture into muggle towns and cities one by one until you find some. You've already set up a cover with Luna; you're at her house. You told Xenophilius you have a grave mission to complete, so he agreed to go along with it. It's not like you're even lying. This is _important._

You can use your wings to get around faster. It's a risk, but you're extremely careful about where you take off and where you land. High in the clouds, nobody is going to spot you, and if they do, they'll probably think you're a plane or a bird.

The first few places are a bust, but they're smaller towns. You think you'll have better luck in the big cities. You can make it to London in a matter of hours if you fly fast enough. That's your next destination. The journey tires you out. You haven't done this much physical activity all at once since you were reborn. You soothe your aching muscles with the knowledge that it will all be worth it in the end.

You drop down on the outskirts and make your way in. From the air, you spotted what looked like a commercial district, so you make your way in that direction. Arriving there however, you don't see any place that looks like it has what you're looking for. You settle for entering a bakery and asking the proprietor where you can find some melon bread.

He has to think on it for a moment before he recognizes what you're talking about. He describes what it is to you and you nod excitedly. He tells you to try the shops at the Asian district and points you in the right direction. You thank him for the advice and leave the store. You should have thought of that earlier.

The sun is starting to set. You search around the Asian district, hoping to find a bakery like the one you just left, but you can't find one. You pull aside a few random strangers, asking if they know a place like that. One of them says they vaguely remember one a couple streets over. You head over there hastily and find what you think is the right place.

But it's closed. Peeking through the window, the lights are all off but you can see some of the baked goods still on display. There.. rests melon bread. It takes all of your self control not to break the glass and rob the place blind, but you don't do that. Your sense of morality hasn't quite deteriorated that much, even if it's slipping a little bit.

You walk away, slumping. That seemed like your best bet. You gave Luna and her dad emergency instructions to make it a sleep-over if you weren't back by a certain point, which looks like it will be incredibly likely at this point. It will take a while to fly back. You sigh heavily and glance around the street. Is there really no hope?

As if in answer, an aroma wafts across your nose on the breeze. Your eyes glaze over as you inhale the wonderful scent. You would recognize this smell anywhere, even after all this time. You follow your nose down the sidewalk, and it leads you to an apartment building. A window open on the first floor is the source. You peer in on your tip-toes. It's resting on a plate with a whole array of pastries and sweets.

You stare through the glass forlornly. If you weren't going to steal from the store, you're not going to steal this person's cooking. Just as you make to walk away to begin the search anew, you hear a feminine voice calling from behind you. _"Wait!"_

You turn around hopefully and spot the speaker, a woman looking out the window at you. The lady has distinctly Asian features. Judging by what she said.. it was Japanese, if you aren't mistaken. That would make her an immigrant? She waves you around to come in through the front, and you hasten to obey. You knock on the door, wringing your hands nervously. She answers the door with a serene smile, waving you in.

She then leads you over to a table with the loaded plate on it and pulls out a chair for you. You take your seat gratefully and she sits down opposite you. You open your mouth to say something in English, then stop. You haven't spoken Japanese in a very long time, but you remember enough.

_"..For me?"_ you ask tentatively, pointing to the tray.

Her smile widens, and she pushes the tray a little bit closer to your side of the table. _"Yes, for you,_" she replies.

Your hand outstretches toward it almost involuntarily. You're so close.. but it still doesn't feel right to just help yourself. _"..Are you sure?" _you confirm shyly.

She shakes her head._ "I could not let a young girl languish out in the cold with no food. Especially not one as pretty as you,_" she says slyly.

That's all you needed to hear. You even avoided blushing at the praise because you're so focused on the melon bread. Your resistance crumbles, and your hand darts forward to claim your prize. _"Thank you!"_ you say vehemently.

Your consciousness ascends to a higher plane for a few moments. All sensation, all thought become one. You've reached Nirvana. You're only vaguely aware of your surroundings. All that exists are you and the heavenly treat in your hands. You savor every mouthful as long as you can to draw out the experience. "Om, nom, nom.. munch, munch.."

You finish your food with a satisfied sigh. You can die happy. Again. You hear the lady speak again. _"I don't think I've ever seen anyone enjoy melon bread so much!"_ she says, laughing.

You feel your cheeks heat up. You're just glad there is nobody you know here to discover your weakness. It would be terrible if word got out about your vices. They say that every person has their price; yours just happens to be rather esoteric.

Your host slumps into her chair. You're still basking in the afterglow of culinary bliss, so you don't immediately spot what's going on with her until you hear her speak.

_"The Flame-Haired Blazing Eyed Hunter lives again."_

Your eyes snap wide open and stare across the table. Her eyes have rolled into the back of her head. Her voice is lower and harsher than it was just a few seconds ago.

_"Her soul awakens from a far-off land, and she is bound by no Earthly prophecies. By her burning will the tapestry of Fate will unravel. Beware the harbinger of change.."_ she finishes ominously.

You look at her nervously. You just heard something very strange. Absolutely no one should know that name, unless you count Xenophilius.. and you doubt those two have met. The lady herself doesn't appear to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Her eyes look normal now. You hear the door to the apartment opening and you both turn to face the entrance.

A British man walks in wearing wizarding robes. _What are the odds..?_ you wonder to yourself. Then again, maybe this lady is a witch, too.. it would offer some explanation as to what happened earlier. The man's eyes widen in surprise when he spots you two sitting down at the table enjoying sweets.

"You have company, dear?" he asks. He scrutinizes you curiously, but cautiously. Despite the fact that his demeanor is pleasant, you can tell he's on guard. Well, you are a stranger in this house.

"Yes, I made friends with this girl," she affirms pleasantly, motioning to you. That's all it takes for him to relax imperceptibly. And she said that in English. Now you just feel silly.

"Hi," you say, waving. "Are you two married?" you ask curiously, your gaze flitting between the two.

"Indeed we are, for more than a year now," he says with a fond smile. He puts an arm around his wife and kisses her on the lips. She blushes prettily and fidgets in her seat.

Your eyes flick over to the fireplace. The fireplace? You don't believe that's standard in an apartment. There's a jar next to it as well.. probably filled with Floo powder. That settles the question in your mind; they're definitely magical. You feel safe asking, "Can I use your Floo to get back home?"

The man's eyebrows raise, and the light of comprehension dawns in his eyes. "So you are a witch.. I was wondering; muggles shouldn't be able to see this apartment," he explains. Then he scratches his chin in thought. "Yes, you may. If you're sure you don't want to stay a little longer? I know my wife wouldn't mind the company," he offers.

You look toward her apologetically. "I have to get back. I'm sorry.. but, maybe I could visit some other time?" you ask hopefully.

She nods with a smile. "Just call on the 'Shacklebolt Residence.' That will bring you here. My name is Akemi, by the way."

"I'm Ginny," you reply. "Ginny Weasley." You rise from your seat, and on an impulse, you hug Akemi. Then you extend your hand to shake her husband's hand. He grips it firmly and if he's surprised by your strength, he doesn't show it. "And my name's Kingsley. It was good to meet you, Ginny. Perhaps I'll see you another time."

You take the Floo back and pretend you just arrived back from Luna's. It's not like anyone can tell where you just came from. You send Errol over with a message real quick to tell them that you made it back in time. You breathe a sigh of relief at the success of your mission; and without getting in trouble, too.

Most importantly, you have a supplier. All is well.

* * *

You drop in on your dad in the barn to see just what he's been up to. You plan to ask him just when you can expect Televisions to become standard in wizard homes. Then he can get to work on cell phones. Actually, the muggles might not have those yet. You'll have to wait for that.

You slide open the barn door and creep up behind your dad. He's hunched over a table, tapping a television with his wand. "How's it going?" you ask.

He jumps a little, then turns to face you. "Oh, Ginny! I just put the finishing touches on these two the other day." He pats the two televisions on the worktable in front of him. "It wasn't easy, I'll tell you!" he boasts with a chuckle.

He picks one of them up with both hands and places it in your arms. It's not as heavy as you thought it would be, considering its size and bulk. "I thought it'd be only fair to hand this one over to you, since you gave me the idea in the first place," he explains.

He scratches his head nervously. "Er.. but.. you probably should try to keep it stashed away somewhere safe when you're not using it. It's only legal in a technical sense," he says with a shaky laugh.

You reposition the TV, holding it under your arm against your hip. "Okay.." you drawl. "But what does it do? You still haven't said," you point out.

"Right, right," he murmurs. "Set this one on the table and I'll show you," he says. You move to comply while he presses the 'on' button on the television on the table. You follow suit with the other one, and they both power on. White and black fuzzy static screens stare back at you. On a curious impulse, you look around the back of them. There isn't any power cable anymore, but obviously they're still working somehow.

He hits the 'channel' button up a couple of times until it says '11' on the top right. Then he gestures for you to follow suit with yours. Once you do, the annoying static fades out and you see.. yourselves, and the rooms behind you. It's like someone put a camera right in the middle of the screen, and the two devices are looking out of each other. "Hello!" your dad calls cheerily, waving. You see the him in the screen on your television waving simultaneously, although his voice is barely audible. The volume is set very low.

"There's only these two right now, but I'm hoping to make a few more for the other channels. It'll be like a mobile Floo calling system," he says proudly.

You turn off the TVs and you grab your set in your arms again. "If you ever want to talk while you're at school, just set it to channel eleven. It'll be resting right here, so you'll be able to catch me in the evenings unless something's come up," he says.

You're a little conflicted. "..This is nice, I guess..? It's not really a TV, though.." you feel the need to point out. Your dad's face falls a little. You rush to reassure him. "But it's really good! Actually, this is a lot like a video call, which is just as cool. Thanks, dad," you say genuinely. He smiles at you, and you take your prize and head back to your room.

* * *

Ron made friends with Harry Potter and a girl named Hermione Granger. He excitedly recounted his adventures when he got back from school. A lot of it sounds really dodgy; no offense to your brother, but those defenses around the Stone must have been really poor if they got through them so easily. You're not going to rain on his parade, though.

Now that you've got them here, you drag the twins away for a talk. You've heard a lot about the 'item' but they've been remarkably cagey about putting anything regarding it in writing. It must be really something if they're this secretive about it.

"Watch," Fred says. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he intones. He sounds totally serious too, which is kind of funny. It's the only kind of promise he could make so seriously.

Ink spreads on the formerly blank parchment. 'Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs are proud to present The Marauders Map' appears at the top, and a large sprawling map unfolds below it. You suspect faintly what it is. "Hogwarts..?" you whisper.

They nod excitedly. "Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail, and Prongs.. whoever they were, they're geniuses. Look," he says, pointing with his finger and the tiny black dots that pepper the parchment. Written in small letters above each one is a name.

Your eyes boggle at the possibilities. "This map is priceless," you say seriously. They nod solemnly in reply. "Where did you get it?" you wonder aloud. They tell you the story of their detention in the caretaker's office and the drawer labeled 'dangerous magical artifacts.' You think the caretaker must be really stupid for putting a label like that on it. It's like a big red button that says 'Do Not Push.'

You spend the next few hours poring over it with them, having them point out to you various things and asking questions that come to mind. You're intensely curious about the makers of the map; could you replicate this kind of cartography with other places? The dots most of all; being able to track the positions of everyone has so many uses. You want to track them down and meet them one day.

Before you leave, you make sure of one last thing. "You'll let me borrow it once in a while, yes? Good," you say with satisfaction. They reluctantly bow their heads.

* * *

You wake up to the sound of footsteps outside your bedroom. Opening your eyes blearily, you can tell that it's still dark. A quick glance at the clock besides your bed shows that it's two in the morning. Feeling cranky, you get out of bed and leave your room to track down the nocturnal offender who disturbed your rest.

You descend the stairs and perk your ears, listening for sounds other than the crickets' chirping. You think you can hear hushed voices down the hall. You enter the room to find that Fred, George, and Ron are all huddled up on the living room couch whispering intently to each other. They haven't noticed you. Yet.

"Stop," you say normally.

They all jump out of their skins and look panicked. They relax when they spot you. Fred and George put their fingers to their mouths in a 'quiet!' gesture. You narrow your eyes at them, eliciting a fearful exchange of glances between the twins.

"What are you doing?" you ask more quietly.

"Harry hasn't answered any of my letters. I'm worried his awful family is locking him up! We're going to go rescue him," Ron whispers insistently.

You feel your eyebrows raise. Your skepticism must be evident on your face, because Ron has opened his mouth again to speak. You raise a hand to forestall him. He's obviously passionate about this. Whether Harry is or isn't in trouble based on nothing but owl silence isn't really important.

"You, I can believe you're in it to help your friend." you say, pointing at Ron. Then you turn to the twins. "But I'm pretty sure you two just want to do something stupid," you say accusingly.

They shrug, as if to say 'Yeah, so?' You concede the point. The twins have never pretended to be law-abiding citizens. You scan their expectant faces. Obviously they hadn't planned for you to wake up, but now that you have, they'd probably like you to come along. They don't have to say it; it's plainly evident in their expressions, even if they don't want to come right out and ask.

"So.." you begin. "You're going to break into dad's barn, fly his car over to Harry's place, and then ferry him back," you spell out. It's the only way you can think of them getting to Harry's this late at night. The problem is, that plan is stupid.

"Yes..?" they say cautiously.

You slap your palm to your face in exasperation, and they cringe. "You don't think anything could go wrong with that? All it will take is one stargazing muggle to ruin your day," you point out.

You consider how to frame your argument in the intervening silence. You know that you can pull this off with much more skill and finesse than Ron can. The only question is how to make Ron realize it, and come to your point of view. "He lives with muggles, right?" you begin questioningly.

"Yes, and they're horrible!" he says vehemently, waving his hands angrily. He opens his mouth to continue espousing the evils of Harry's muggle relatives, but you raise a hand to forestall him and he falls silent.

"Have you written to Hermione?" you ask semi-rhetorically. Something tells you he hasn't. You've never met Hermione, but she's probably the level-headed part of this trio of friends. "She might have ideas on how to help. Her parents are muggles, too. I'm pretty sure that nobody likes horrible people, muggle or not. They could get him out of that house for good if they see what it's like," you say reasonably.

Ron has a conflicted look on his face. The prospect of solving Harry's issues permanently is appealing, but that plan is too abstract and uncertain for him. "Maybe.. but Harry's in trouble right now. I'm not going to wait however long it takes for that to work," he says stubbornly, meeting your eyes.

Your gaze lingers overlong on his, but he doesn't look away. It would be admirable if it wasn't so annoying. "..." You close your eyes and think. You'd suspected the conversation would steer this way; the last exchange was just warming up to this. This way, he'll concede the actual rescuing part to you, having already rejected one of your plans.

"..Fine, but let me handle this. If you're caught driving that car around, Dad will be in a load of trouble. You don't want him to get fired, right?" you ask pointedly.

The struggle on Ron's face is visible. He struggles to find something he can use to rebut your words. "Yes.. but.. would he even recognize you from the platform? Why would he come with you?" he asks.

You smile at his query. You can throw a bone to him like this; a chance for him to be useful to his friend. Never mind that you could probably just kidnap Harry without him getting a say in the matter. He can't do magic, what could he do to you? "That's where you come in. I just so happen to have-" You extract the enchanted TV from your dimensional pocket.

"-this thing here." You hold it out for them to see, then cradle it against your body with one arm.

"What does that do?.. and where did you get that from?" Ron wonders aloud. Then he shakes his head, thinking better of it. "No, never mind, don't answer that."

You ignore the last part of his statement. "Follow me and I'll show you what it does," you say, motioning them to trail behind you.

They dutifully follow your lead over to your dad's barn. You place your TV next to its pair, and turn them both on to demonstrate their use. Flipping the channel up to 11, you then wave your arm up and down in view of one of the sets so that the image is echoed in the other. "Hello, Me," you greet yourself. There's an odd double-speak echo left behind in the wake of your statement.

You flip them back off, put your own set back in Yogasa, and turn to face your audience. "See? Wait here and you can talk to Harry when I get there. I was thinking we could take the Knight Bus back home," you say with a hand on your chin in thought, already planning how this will go down.

"I.." Ron starts, indecision in his eyes.

You grasp him by the shoulders and will him to see your conviction. You're doing this to help. You're not just trying to have an adventure. You'll take this seriously. "Ron. You can trust me. Have some faith in your sister, okay?" you say with a faint smile.

Ron mirrors your grin with a half-smile of his own, and you relax in relief. "..Yeah, alright. Good luck, Ginny. I'll be waiting." He walks over in front of the table with the TV resting on it and picks it up, then places it on the ground next to him. He sits down next to it and stares at the screen fixedly.

You see the twins following you out of the barn. It looks like they didn't care to stay up with Ron. "So boring," Fred laments. You whack him upside the head. "Ow.." Fred moans.

"What are you two complaining for? Harry will be here before the night's over and you can have your fun then," you say harshly.

The twins share a glance. They're already thinking of their next caper, you can just tell. Before they leave, you make sure to grab directions to Harry's house from them. You doubt Ron actually knows how to get there. Once you've got the path laid out in your head, you say goodnight. They wave farewell, head back into the house, and you go your separate ways. You sigh exasperatedly. "Idiots," you mutter to yourself.

You duck back into the barn for a moment, realizing you've forgotten something. Or, rather, you just thought of it. "Oh, and one more thing. Ron, can you sign this piece of parchment with your name? It would help," you call out, holding out a piece of spare parchment and a quill in front of him.

He scrawls an atrocious-looking signature and hands it back to you. You scribble a preface of your own at the top: 'I'm Ron's sister, Ginny. He sent me to get you out.' A little extra insurance never hurt anybody.

You're about to leave when you realize your clothing is.. suboptimal. You dash up to your room real quick, then you change out of your pajamas into something a bit more appropriate for a stealth mission. You exit the house and flare your wings to life. You kick off from the ground and soar into the skies above toward your destination.

* * *

You touch down outside of Little Whinging. All the houses are identically suburban here. It makes the place feel lifeless, especially with only streetlights and the moon illuminating the night. You don't see anyone on your walk toward Privet Drive. You stroll along until you find.. number 4. Looking in from the outside, you can see that there are bars on one of the bedroom windows. That must be Harry's room. It really doesn't bode well for the mental state of the people living here. Imagine glancing across the street to find some lunatic installing bars on his windows.

The place is locked up tight. You circle around the house stealthily, trying to find a way in. Eventually, you spot a window in the living room that wasn't shut properly. You wiggle your fingers under and pull it up, opening up a space large enough for you to crawl in. You land on top of a sofa on the other side with a soft _thump. _You turn around and gently close the window behind you. That was too easy.

You creep up the stairs on tiptoe, wincing as one of the steps creaks as you step on it. It's a good thing you're so light; it wasn't that loud, and you don't think anyone heard. You stop in front of the door you believe to be Harry's, if your spacial reasoning is correct judging from the bars on the windows outside. There's a flap installed for pets on the bottom half.

You open the door quietly, noticing the lock.. is on this side. He's been locked in? You give a second glance toward the catflap, then at an empty bowl resting beside Harry's bed. You have a horrible realization. The catflap here is for putting meals in, not for a pet. That's absolutely disgusting. If wizards learned about this..

You spot Harry on the bed. This part is tricky. You have to wake him up without waking up anyone else. It all depends on how much he cooperates without freaking out. You place the TV on his dresser and turn it on, then turn to rustle Harry awake.

But he's already awake. He's still under the covers, staring straight at you with curiosity in his eyes. You freeze in mid-step. How long was he watching? You shake your head; it doesn't matter. You raise your hands in a defensive gesture and whisper, "Ron wants to see you." You produce the parchment from a pocket and hand it over to him.

He takes off the blankets and sits over the edge of the bed, grabbing his glasses and reading it by the moonlight. He looks up at you after he finishes reading, this time focusing on your hair. You get a better look at him as well, with the moonlight streaming in from the bars behind him.

Harry is painfully thin. They must be feeding him only the bare minimum to survive. His arms are like twigs, and his face is vaguely emaciated. You wouldn't be surprised if you weighed more than he did, and you are most definitely not fat. Just more evidence that his family is mistreating him. You really, really don't like this. The injustice of it sears your insides. You have to solve this, somehow. You push aside your anger for now.

"Ron wants to see you," you whisper, gesturing toward the TV.

You turn the channel up to 11 and Ron's face appears on the screen.

"Harry!" Ron bursts out loudly.

"Shhhh!" you and Harry shush him in unison. You turn the volume down and look around fearfully. Fortunately, you don't hear any stirring from elsewhere in the house. Harry's muggle relatives are still sound asleep.

"Sorry.." he says sheepishly.

Ron looks as concerned as you do regarding Harry's appearance, if the look on his face is anything to go by. "What's going on? Why haven't you answered any of my letters?" Ron whispers insistently.

Harry begins to speak, but you cut him off with a hand. "Later. Right now, we need to leave. You can stay at our house," you say directly to Harry. "I'm sure Mum will be mad at first, but once she sees how malnourished you are we should be fine. There's no way she'll leave you alone."

Ron nods on his side. "She's right." He looks around nervously, and yawns. He must have stayed up pretty late to do this. You glance at a clock on Harry's bedside table. It reads 3:00 AM. "Well.. I reckon you guys want to get out of there. I'll see you later, Harry. Stay safe!" he says, looking a lot happier than he did when he left. He must already consider the mission a success.

"See you," Harry says quietly in farewell. You gather up the TV and store it back in subspace. Harry looks at you strangely.

"Where does it go..?" he wonders.

You smile slyly at him. "I have deep pockets." Your smile fades as you get back to business. "Come on, gather your things and hand them to me. I don't even live here and I don't want to stay another second. This place is awful," you say, shuddering.

You hit a bit of an impasse gathering Harry's trunk. It's locked in a cupboard under the stairs. Without any way to open it, you spend the next fifteen minutes searching for a key. You have no luck in any of the rooms on the ground floor, and resign yourself to searching the bedrooms.

You have to creep past his aunt and uncle's bed to find it. His uncle is snoring up a storm, covering any sounds you're making as you search their room. It's still nerve-wracking. You extract a keyring from a drawer on their nightstand and beat a hasty retreat out of there. This is turning out to be a lot harder than you had imagined. So many things could have just gone wrong.. but you're in the clear now.

You gather up Harry's things and stuff them in your dimensional pocket, aside from Harry's owl, her cage, and his wand, to call the Knight Bus. He looks increasingly amazed as you fit item after item, including his hefty trunk. You can't stop a smile from forming on your face at the genuinely impressed visage of a wizarding legend.

You walk out the front door in lazy steps. You can't lock the door behind you, but it hardly matters at this point. They'll realize something's wrong when they notice Harry isn't there, not when their front door is unlocked. You both breathe a collective sigh of relief.

"Whew.. I can't believe we made it. So, what now?" Harry asks, turning to you. He adjusts the cage in his hand, trying to soothe the owl inside, who looks restless.

"There's a wizarding bus for times like these," you begin explaining.

You keep walking down the street, Harry trailing a little bit after you. "It's called the Knight Bus. It's supposed to come for you if you hold your wand out. We can use it to get back home." You turn around to face Harry and halt, and he stops too. You gesture for him to use his wand so you can get back home.

"Hold on a minute," he says first.

"What is it?" you ask impatiently, tapping your foot.

He sets the owl cage on the ground and starts fiddling with the entrance. "I'm going to send Hedwig ahead of us. She's been locked up in her cage for days. I want her to get some fresh air. She knows where you guys live." He opens it up and Hedwig flies out, hooting happily. She flies off into the night sky and Harry's gaze follows her all the way out of sight. You throw the cage into Yogasa for good measure, then cough pointedly to bring him out of his reverie.

"Sorry," he says with an embarrassed tint to his cheeks. He holds his wand arm out awkwardly toward the street. It looks like he feels foolish. "Like this?" he asks hopefully. You don't get a chance to answer because a loud _bang _rings out through the air that causes you to jump in alarm.

"Whoa..!" Harry exclaims, stumbling back. You put a hand on his shoulder to steady him so that he doesn't fall.

The double-decker bus pulls up to where you two stand, and the door slides open. A mousy-looking teenager with tousled brown hair and wearing an ill-fitting conductor uniform stands in the entry squinting at a piece of paper gripped in his hands. "Welcome to the Knight Bus.. Offering emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor for this evening," a bored voice reads from a card. It sounds like he's given this speech many, many times. You wonder why he even needs the card.

You exchange glances with Harry, and take the lead under silent agreement. "How much is it to Ottery St. Catchpole?" you ask the conductor.

"That'll be 10 sickles a head. If you want hot chocolate, that'll be two sickles extra," he replies. He peers at you over the card in his hand. You'd rather he not recognize Harry, so you make sure to dominate his vision. Harry is disturbingly good at fading into the background behind you.

You bite your lip. You've got just enough pocket money to pay for your own fare. You're glad you thought to bring all of it. You didn't realize this bus cost so much, or you would've just flown him back. You feel Harry's hand grab your shoulder while you're rifling through your pockets for change. You give him a questioning look.

He holds out a pair of gold galleons and nods his head in the direction of Stan. You take the one coin for Harry, but shake your head when he tries to offer you the other one. "I can pay my own way," you say.

He adopts a mulish look and shoves the coin at you more insistently. "..No." he says clearly, shaking his head. "You helped me this much, the least I can do is pay your fare," he says stubbornly.

"I.. fine." you huff. You can just tell he's one of those types of people who can't stand unfairness. He thinks he's in your debt, so he'll repay you whether you want him to or not. It'll be easier on you if you just accept it. You pay for your rides sans hot chocolate, and hand the change back to Harry. Then, you both take your seats near the back of the first story of the bus.

There's an old man snoozing slumped against the window a few rows ahead of you, and you can hear talking from the space above you. Looking at the waiting list at the front of the bus, you can see that you've got four people ahead of you in line.

The bus starts moving again with another harsh _bang_. Harry is thrown back against the seat, and you adopt a death grip on chair to keep yourself in place. The bus stops after what can't be more than ten seconds, crashing to a halt all at once and sending everything flying forward.

The cycle repeats itself for each passenger. You're really starting to regret taking this thing.

"..Ugh.." you hear Harry groan next to you, having been thrown hard against the seat, again.

"Are you okay?" you ask him.

He turns a nauseous glance your way. "How are you managing to stay in your seat? I keep flying back.."

You look at the chair below you. Your nails are digging holes into the fabric, you're gripping it so hard. "Just hold on to the seat really tight," you offer. You don't think it'll help, but you feel like you should at least say something. The bus starts moving again.

You hear another graceless _slam_ against the back of the seat. Harry nurtures a bump on his head. "It didn't work," he says, frowning.

You shrug helplessly. "Sorry. This bus is awful. We should've just flown back.." you say wistfully. You see him perk up at the thought of flying. He does have a broom, after all. It wouldn't have been that much slower. At the very least, you've learned that you should never ever use this bus if you don't have to.

"At least it'll be over soon. We're next, see?" you say consolingly, pointing to the list at the front.

You leave quickly, ignoring Stan's curious gaze. Undoubtedly he's wondering just what the heck you two are doing, but your glare is enough to dissuade him from saying anything. When you touch your feet on the pavement, you stretch, yawning. "It's fast, I'll give it that much. It's still dark out," you say, shadowing your eyes with a hand as you look straight at the moon.

Harry is looking much relieved at the presence of solid ground. You lead him out toward the countryside, to where The Burrow is. On the walk back, you question him about what was going on at his house. He glosses over the terrible relatives part, which was the important bit, at least.. you would think that would be important. He's more focused on recounting his strange encounter with a house elf warning him to stay away from Hogwarts.

You sneak back into the house with little fanfare. You show Harry up to Ron's room where he's sleeping soundly, and lay out a blanket for him. You retreat to your own room to get some valuable sleep. You'll need it for the inevitable explosion tomorrow morning.

* * *

You wake in time with the sun rising, and descend the stairs to eat breakfast as if it's any other morning. Your mum is already up and about cooking, and judging by the lack of furious muttering, she hasn't discovered the additional resident. You help her set the table and take a seat while you wait.

Ron enters the room and Harry follows after, looking hesitent. "Umm.. sorry to intrude.." he says timidly.

Your mum's head snaps in his direction, and she gapes at him. "Wha.. Harry? How did- what-" she splutters.

Her gaze becomes hawk-like as it roams around the room. Fred and George choose this moment to walk in, and your mum homes in on them. "Fred? George? You two know something about this, don't you? I can tell by the smile on your faces!" she says, her voice rising angrily.

They exchange indignant glances. "Hey, we didn't do anything!" Fred complains.

"Our mother is so cruel. Always jumping to conclusions.." George laments with a dramatic sigh. They take their places at the table casually. The cogs in your mum's head are going haywire. She can't figure out what's going on in her own house, and it's pissing her off. A lot.

Until she takes in the sight of Harry standing around, looking awkward. "Oh, Harry dear. Don't worry about a thing. You're welcome here as long as you like," she says, smiling kindly. Harry smiles back at her in return and takes a seat next to Ron, goggling at all the magical things in the house. The enchanted clock, the self-cleaning pots and pans.. he's never seen them before.

There isn't anymore fuss kicked up after that. Your parents exchange letters with the relevant people, and Harry is allowed to stay at The Burrow for the rest of the summer, much to his delight. Nobody gets in trouble, because as far as the Weasley children are concerned, Harry just appeared in the house. Fred and George like to speculate aloud that he must have learned to spontaneously apparate out of horrible places.

* * *

You've been to Diagon Alley before as a tag-along, but this year you're finally shopping for yourself. You considered asking Luna if she wanted to shop together, but you dismissed the idea after some thought. Your mum is the one with a handle on all the shopping, so you'll have an easier time with her to help you navigate the shops to find what you need.

You pick up everything second-hand; everything except a wand. Your family knows the importance of matching a wand properly to the witch or wizard. Unfortunately, it means that your potions kit is cheap, your robes are shabby, and your books have stains and graffiti all over them. It would be nice to have money, but all your brothers have made do with substandard supplies, so you can too.

You meet up coincidentally with Hermione and her parents in the middle of your shopping trip. While Harry and Ron catch up with their friend, the adults decide to do the remaining shopping as one large group. The only items left on your own list are your books. You head on over to Flourish & Blotts to find some kind of media event in progress.

Your future defense professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, is announcing his new position in front of a few interviewers and cameramen. A small crowd has formed in the cramped indoor space. You and your family muscle your way through to the front to get a better look.

Harry is recognized by one of the reporters and shuffled up toward Mr. Lockhart for a picture. You're surprised it took this long for him to be noticed and singled out. Celebrities can't walk around in public without causing a stir. Harry doesn't look too happy about being commandeered by the press, but he puts up with it, and manages to score some free books out of it too.

Professor Lockhart, finished with his announcement, takes a seat at a desk to sign books. Your mum in particular wants to have all of your books signed. You don't care enough to argue with her about it. Harry Potter's celebrity status doesn't mean anything to you, so why would Gilderoy Lockhart's? Your mum just thinks he's pretty. While your mum is waiting in line, you stand around with Harry, Ron, and your dad.

A snide voice breaks the silence. "Can you even go to a bookstore without making the front page, Potter?"

A young blond boy swaggers up in sleek black robes, a sneer on his face and his lips curled upward into a smirk. He has a one hand in his pocket and the other held loosely at his side. His eyes slide over the rest of the party dismissively before locking onto Harry.

Harry's expression tightens at the sight of the blond boy, and he opens his mouth to respond, but Ron beats him to the punch. "Shove off, Malfoy. Like Harry wanted any of that," Ron retorts. He's positioned himself halfway in front of his front protectively, his face flushed red with angry blotches.

Draco snorts derisively, and turns to look in an exaggerated fashion at the line of people waiting in front of Professor Lockhart. "I didn't see anyone stopping it. Did you?" he asks rhetorically with an arched eyebrow.

The red on Ron's cheeks deepens and he frowns in consternation. Before anyone can open their mouth to reply. a sharply-dressed blond haired man strides up behind the boy, interrupting the conversation. "There you are, Draco," he says in clipped tones. He follows Draco's gaze toward Harry, and the rest of your party.

"Mr. Potter and friends. How delightful," he drawls, the words coming out of his mouth at complete odds with the tone of his voice.

You can put two and two together. These two look remarkably alike, and Ron called the boy Malfoy. You've heard enough complaints about Draco from Ron and about Lucius from your dad to deduce the identities of these two.

Maybe it's your family's biases clouding your judgement, but Lucius Malfoy hasn't said a single word to you and you've already decided he's scum of the worst kind. The disdain in his eyes, the sneer on his face; his whole body language screams his condescension toward your family.

His eyes drop low toward the cauldron you're using as a carrying case for your books. Before you can back away, he snatches a book out of it with his hand. "Dear me. Another one leaving for Hogwarts this year? Tut, tut. I wonder what garbage bin you salvaged this in?" he wonders aloud, eying the book with a grimace of distaste.

"Hey..!" you shout, stretching your hand out to grab your book back. He pulls his hand back out of your reach, then turns to survey your family all at once. His lips curl in contempt as he takes in the shabby clothing on your backs and the second-hand supplies in your arms. He speaks directly to your dad.

"Disgusting. That any of us would live in such poverty.. it's a disgrace to the name of wizard." He tosses your book back at you, and you snatch it out of the air on reflex. You stuff in back in your cauldron quickly.

Your dad gazes levelly back at him. He looks beyond furious, the ire on his face surpassing rage and into cold fury. His wand arm twitches toward his robes pocket longingly. He must be desperately trying to suppress the urge to attack him. "We have very different ideas on what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy."

Mr. Malfoy snorts. "Clearly. As if any self-respecting wizard would enjoy the company of muggles," he says, gesturing toward Hermione's parents looking at some spellbooks with their daughter. You can't hear her them from here, but Hermione is explaining something to them, and they're listening and nodding excitedly back.

"Amusing little pets, aren't they? See the wonder on their faces. Perhaps they'll begin to appreciate their proper place. Then again.." he trails off, staring at Hermione. His next words are obviously uttered with her in mind. "I doubt it."

The air is charged with hostility. Both parties are glaring heatedly at each other. No one says anything for a couple seconds. The spell is broken when Lucius turns with a sweep of his cloak. "Come, Draco. I've breathed enough befouled air for one day." He glides out of the shop, and Draco follows close behind him. "Git," Ron mutters under his breath.

You finally blink yourself out of your partially stupefied state. That was just so.. so.. audacious. He walked in and grabbed your book like he owned it. Like he owned the whole bookstore, for that matter. Not only that, but he was talking about Hermione's parents like they were dogs. Dogs! And it was clear he didn't think Hermione was that much higher on the totem pole. The whole thing makes you seethe with righteous indignation. You're already going over in your mind all the insults you could've said to Lucius Malfoy instead of staring at him like an idiot.

You furrow your brow as you stare at the place where they left. "What an asshole.."

Your mum takes this moment to arrive with your Lockhart books all signed. "Ginny! Language!" she yells in a scandalized voice.

You pointedly ignore the rebuke sent your way by your mum. You're still thinking about the detestable pair that darkened your shopping trip. You aren't going to let this kind of thing pass without reply. You turn to ask Ron, "That boy.. Draco was his name, right?"

He nods affirmatively. "Yeah, but what-"

You cut him off, not interested in answering his questions. "He'll be at Hogwarts with us? And he'll be on the train?"

Ron looks as if he's not sure whether to be interested or horrified in where he thinks your thought train is going. He's probably not wrong. "Yes.." he says slowly. "..but-"

You laugh. It's the laugh of someone who's going to extract some tasty, tasty vengeance sometime in the near future. Ron looks as if he wants to say something else, but he snaps his mouth shut as if a sudden thought just occurred to him. A devious smile spreads across his face and he gives you the thumbs up before going back to Harry's side.

You separate Hermione from the rest after you leave the bookstore to talk. Specifically, you want to deal with the problem of Harry's home life. You've ruled out going to Harry himself, on the grounds that it wouldn't accomplish anything. Somehow, you doubt he believes there's a problem, or at least, a problem worth doing something about. It's probably just the way it is for him.

"Hermione, right? We need to talk about Harry," you say without preamble.

Hermione looks lost for words at your abruptness. She grasps for something to say as the silence stretches. "Um.. you're.. Ginny?" she asks tentatively.

You nod. "Yes." You bring a hand up to brush your hair out of your face. "Has Harry ever mentioned his aunt and uncle? About how they treat him?" you ask.

She closes her eyes to think, then opens them after a few seconds. "..I think he's said they hate him once or twice."

You nod again. "He's dead serious." You have a suspicion she didn't take his words entirely seriously. Who would?

She bites her lip, wearing a conflicted expression. "But.. are you sure? I mean.."

You cut her off before she can elaborate. "They're not harboring any secret affection for him." You use this opening to tell her the story of how you took Harry from his aunt and uncle's to live at the Burrow for the rest of the summer. "Once they found out he couldn't use magic outside school, they locked him in his room and put bars on his windows. They installed a cat-flap and shoved in food under the door. He was only let out to go to the bathroom."

You pin her in place with a serious stare. "Ask him if you don't believe me."

She wrings her hands together, pulling at a strand of her bushy brown hair and appearing flustered. "I.. why are you coming to me about this? Wouldn't it be better to talk to your parents about it?" she asks hopefully.

You're a little disappointed she's not jumping all over this. Then again, she's just a kid, and it's not like she saw his living conditions firsthand like you did. She wilts a little under your stare. Perhaps she can feel your disappointment. "..Maybe. But then the Ministry might get wind of it. I don't want to see an article in the Prophet about how his muggle relatives abuse him," you answer eventually.

You continue, "I'm pretty sure muggle authorities don't tolerate this any more than wizarding ones do. I wouldn't know what to do to get results there, so that's why I've come to you." You look at her expectantly. If she's really his friend.. but you don't have to worry about it. She screws up her face in distaste, then sighs in resignation.

"..I see what you're saying. I'll definitely help. I've always gotten the sense that Harry downplays what goes on at his aunt and uncle's house."

She frowns at you. "I still think you should talk to your parents. I think they can be discreet, if you're worried about potential backlash. Besides, I think it's rather optimistic to think that we can do something about this without people finding out about it."

You grimace. What she's saying makes sense, but you don't have to like it. "If it comes down to that, I don't really care what leaks out. But I _know_ that I'm not letting Harry go back there next summer. It's ridiculous," you say vehemently.

Hermione's gaze turns speculative. "You feel pretty strongly about this, don't you?" You feel her unasked question of _why?_ Why do you care?

"Of course I do. I saw it myself. Harry himself isn't going to do anything about it, so it falls to someone else to step in. I don't abide cruelty or unfairness," you say with finality. You put to rest any notions that you're doing this specifically because of who he is. That's not your motivation. Hermione nods in understanding.

You say your goodbyes, and head back home with all your new supplies. Most of it is packed away in a trunk to be ignored until you leave for Hogwarts.

* * *

You send Errol over to the Shacklebolt's to arrange a lunch-date. Aside from the lure of melon bread, you want to get to know the witch and wizard personally as well. Akemi made that strange prediction last time, and she didn't even seem to be aware she did it.

She's there to greet you when you Floo in. "Hello, Ginny."

"Hullo, Akemi." You tilt your head in thought. You kind of want to conduct the afternoon in Japanese. To stay in practice, and also for nostalgia's sake._ "Can we speak Japanese? I want to practice."_

She smiles indulgently back at you, and leads the way into the dining room. _"Of course. Might I ask where you learned? It's very good."_

You grimace at the compliment. You know what fluent speaking sounds like, and what's coming out of your mouth isn't anywhere near that perfect. _"It's bad. I know it's bad. You don't have to be nice."_

As to her question, you simply shrug. _"I've known since I was born,"_ you say truthfully.

She nods thoughtfully at your response and sets the table with your assistance. The food has been cooked before your arrival, and she serves portions for both you and her before taking a seat. You eat your Asian-style meal on opposite ends of the table, savoring the flavors you haven't partaken in years.

In between bites, you ask, _"What was that weird.. prediction, you did last time?"_

Her chopstick-laden hand freezes, and she stares at you in shock. "_I..? No. You must be mistaken. I am not a Seer."_

You look at her in confusion. The way she said that just now was odd. You've touched on something unknowingly, but you don't know specifically what it is. You've heard about 'Prophecies' with a capital P before in a wizarding context. You know they exist, and even if you don't know exactly what constitutes a proper Prophecy, what she said last time certainly sounds like it qualifies. _"Your voice went all raspy and you said some weird stuff. Are you sure?" _you ask tentatively.

She closes her eyes. It seems as if she's trying to calm herself down. When they open again, her expression is hard._ "You're mistaken. I'm sorry, but can we talk about something else?"_

_"Okay.." _you say reluctantly. The atmosphere has become awkward, and a stunted silence reigns over the dining table. You're left to wonder why she had such a reaction to you words. Still, you need to say something to break this tension.

_"Kingsley is at work? What does he do?"_

She sighs gratefully at the change in subject, and smiles at the thought of her husband. _"He is an Auror at the Ministry."_

You lean forward in your chair interestedly. _"Wow, really?"_ Now that you think about it though, he did look like a fighter by the way he carried himself, last time you came over. Or that could just be your own bias tainting your memory.

You wonder how powerful he is. He must be, if he's an Auror. They take only the best. _"I want to fight him," _you say suddenly.

Akemi blinks, nonplussed. _"You'll have to ask him. But he won't be home until dinner." _

You frown unhappily. It would be a great test of your skills to try your hand against a seasoned combat wizard like Kingsley. It doesn't look like you'll get a chance before Hogwarts though. You'll have to wait until at least Christmas.

You savor every bite of the melon bread Akemi made for dessert. You felt a little bad at limiting her menu choices like this, but she told you that seeing your delighted face was rewarding enough for her. It made you blush, to your own embarrassment. You hate not being able to control your own reactions.

_"Can I visit over Christmas break?" _you ask by the fireplace as you're ready to leave.

Akemi nods, smiling indulgently. _"Of course you can. You're welcome any time. I'd love to hear about your first year at Hogwarts."_

_"Oh!"_ she exclaims, as if she'd just remembered something. She leaves the room, leaving you to stand awkwardly for a couple minutes. She returns carrying a sealed basket in one arm. She hands it over to you. _"For the road." _she says.

Your heart jumps into your throat. Is this..? You put your nose to the lid of the basket and sniff. Yes.. the contents are fresh. It won't keep for too long, but it is a precious, precious gift. You'll be working to repay this woman for the rest of your life. You will build an altar in her name and pray before it every day.

_"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" _you shout excitedly, placing the basket on the ground and hugging her tightly.

You let her go, and she chuckles at your exuberance. _"It's no problem."_

You leave with a contented smile on your face. You should definitely visit over Christmas. If you can convince Kinglsey for a good spar, and snag some more melon bread.. that's something you can look very much forward to.

* * *

You leave for King's Cross with your family. You seek out Luna once you arrive at the platform so that you can both board the train and find a compartment together.

Once your parties have converged with each other, you load your luggage onto the train and say your goodbyes to your family. Your mum looks both sad and proud as she waves goodbye. You consider that as the last one leaving for Hogwarts, the Burrow will feel remarkably empty without any children in it. You resolve to write your mum at least once a week so that she doesn't get lonely.

You nab an empty compartment with Luna and take your seats. Luna shares some snacks with you that she buys from the trolley during the trip. You're grateful, as you certainly don't have any spending money. You have a couple sickles of pocket money for emergencies and that's it.

After you finish nibbling the head off a struggling chocolate frog, you excuse yourself from the compartment. There's something you need to take care of while the train is in transit. You're going to give a talking to that prat Malfoy. You tell Luna you'll be right back and exit the compartment, sliding the door closed behind you.

You walk down the aisle with a happy smile on your face. Revenge fantasies play across your mind's eye; made all the more sweet because you know they're about to come true. You look in through the window of each compartment, trying to spot Draco's. It doesn't take long for you to spot him.

Peering in through the glass, you can see he's reclining comfortably in his seat, and two burly boys sitting opposite him. "Found you," you murmur to yourself. You slide open the door and step inside.

Three heads snap in your direction as you cross the threshold. Draco glances at you with mild irritation. "Get out of here, Weasley," he commands in an annoyed voice.

You place your hand on your hip and narrow your eyes at him. "How about no. I came here to make something clear." You take a step forward aggressively.

Draco and his two buddies stand up as one. "You've got some nerve, Weasley. Get out, or we'll make you get out," he says warningly.

A twinkle of satisfaction crosses your eyes. They could've played this the easy way, but it's obvious they're not going to back down until you make them. The hard way will be much more satisfying for you. You smile grimly at them. "Just try it," you taunt. You ready yourself to move.

Draco's eyes narrow at you. He extracts his wand from his pocket in one quick movement and points it at you. "Petrificus Totalus!" he shouts.

You kick off the floor and dart to the right, out of the path of the spell. Then, you rush forward in a burst of speed before he can complete another spell and swipe the wand out of his hand. You hop backward out of his reach while he makes a grab for it. You're simply way too fast and nimble for him. He might as well be standing still, he's so slow to react.

His face has gone red with rage at the loss of his only weapon. "You give that back now!" He turns to look at his two cronies. "Crabbe, Goyle! Get her!" he shouts, pointing at you with one finger.

They don't bother with wands, instead closing in on you from both sides. A mistake; they must be either used to using their size to intimidate opponents or they're just terrible at magic. Your physical abilities far outstrip theirs, of that you're certain.

You sidestep the first one's lunge, then catch the second one's punch in your hand. The look of surprise on his face as you hold him in place is priceless. You slip your hand around his wrist and twist until he howls in pain, trying to wrench free from your grasp. You raise your leg and kick him into the compartment wall. He slams into it hard and slumps to the ground, unmoving.

While you're distracted with number two, the first one tries to grab you from behind, encircling your torso with two big, meaty arms. You throw an elbow backward into his chest. You feel it sink deeply into his round belly, as if you jumped onto an air mattress to blow the air out. "Ooohh.." he moans painfully. His grip falters and he stumbles backward into the seat and collapses into a heap clutching his stomach. He doesn't look like he's going to rise anytime soon. You turn toward Draco.

"Your cronies are pathetic," you sneer. Draco simply looks shell-shocked at the casual ease with which you dispatched his friends. You can tell the exact moment that he becomes acutely aware he's entirely at your mercy by the way his eyes suddenly widen and dart around the compartment to look for an escape. He swallows thickly in resignation and turns horror-filled eyes in your direction. He doesn't meet your stare, instead looking somewhere behind your shoulder.

"What do you want, Weasley?" Draco asks with a slight quaver in his voice. It's clear he's trying not to show his fear, but he's not being entirely successful. The facade is only inches away from crumbling; all it would take is one tiny shove from you to bring it crashing down.

"I came in here to tell you something," you say, brushing your hair out of your face. You walk up to him until your face is inches from his. His eyes snap to yours, and he's unable to look away.

"If you ever mess with me or my friends, you'll regret it. It's a promise." You stare into his eyes for a few seconds to let the message stick. He nods rapidly in response.

You retreat out of his personal space. You spot Crabbe and Goyle nursing their injuries out of the corner of your eyes. It wouldn't be fair for Draco to be the only one unharmed here, would it? He follows your gaze toward his fallen friends and realizes in a burst of clarity what your intentions are. He tries to back away ineffectually into the wall, but there's no where to run. You smirk unpleasantly at him. "A reminder for you, before I leave," you say, readying a fist and closing the distance in measured steps.

Your fist darts out and punches him square in the eye before he has a chance to shield himself, and he yells out in pain, clutching his face. You massage your knuckles for a second and look at your handiwork speculatively. You can't see through his fingers, but you're sure you've left a highly visible mark on his face. He'll surely get it healed before the opening feast, but at least he'll have to bear it until then. Besides, you couldn't leave without hurting him at least a little bit.

"Oh, and here's your wand," you tell the moaning Malfoy, tossing it backwards as you leave the compartment.

* * *

Once you settle back opposite Luna, she asks you curiously where you went, so you tell her. She giggles along with you as you retell the story of Malfoy nearly peeing his pants in fear. "He should've known better than to anger a fire spirit," she says playfully.

You roll your eyes at her. You know that Luna finds that particular quirkiness of her dad's very endearing. You've seen her play along with his 'ideas' more than once at their house. She's like her mum that way; you don't think either of them truly believe everything Xenophilius talks about, but they're determined to keep an open mind to entertain the possibilities.

You depart the train with Luna, and shuffle over toward the place you're being summoned. The big, hairy man calling for first years at Hogwarts must be Hagrid, the Gameskeeper. It's finally your turn to ride the boats across the lake. You're filled with anticipation as you get inside one with Luna, and another pair of girls joins you on the other side of the boat.

They float magically toward their destination slowly but surely. When Hogwarts comes into view, everyone gasps, and you're no exception. The moment is tailor made to awe and inspire. The castle is large and majestic, stretching high into the starry sky. How big is this place? How much can you explore while you're here? It seems like a fairy tale. You look forward eagerly to your arrival.

The first years are led up toward the Great Hall to be sorted. The crowd of students mills anxiously about, waiting for Professor McGonagall to open the doors. You hear whispers from the less-informed wondering what the teacher meant about being 'sorted.' It makes you sigh inwardly. You feel like they should be explaining more or handing out pamphlets or something, to students from a non-magical background.

At last, the doors creak open, and you file in to be placed under the scrutiny of the entire school. You walk confidently, not letting mere stares bring you down. After the Sorting Hat sings his song, Professor McGonagall calls the students one by one up to the stool to be sorted. You mostly just glance around the hall, spotting out each member of your familiy at the Gryffindor table, while the rest of your year is sorted. You're a bit surprised when Luna is sorted into Gryffindor, but you're happy with the result nonetheless. After all, that's probably your destination too.

When you're called, you walk up to the stool, sit down, and McGonagall places the Sorting Gat onto your head.

A voice echoes in the corners of your mind, but it doesn't seem to be talking directly to you. It's more like it's deliberating. _"Hmm.. you're fiercely driven, but not for your own sake. I don't believe Slytherin is for you. You're the most loyal person a friend could ask for.. but you don't extend your friendship easily. Hufflepuff is out. You've a sharp mind, but it's practically bent. Ravenclaw is not your home."_

It's just a hat, but somehow you can feel the smile behind its next words. _"You see where this is going, I'm sure? You are one of the bravest and truest souls who've ever passed beneath my brim, make no mistake. The house you belong is.."_

The hat opens its brim wide and shouts, "GRYFFINDOR!"

McGonagall takes the hat off and you trot happily over to sit next to Luna at the Gryffindor table. You share smiles with the rest of your family. Yes.. this is acceptable. Maybe there's something to be said for being forced to make new friends in another house, but as you sit surrounded by your family while eating and chatting happily with Luna, you think to yourself that there isn't anywhere else you'd rather be.


	5. To School

During the feast, the Hogwarts ghosts made their official appearance, with Sir Nicholas greeting the new arrivals at Gryffindor. Although he acted offended when a fellow first year asked him about his nickname of 'Nearly Headless,' you suspected it was just for show. He certainly seemed to derive a twisted sort of amusement at the shrieks of your classmates when he let his head dangle off his shoulders with only a small sliver of skin keeping it connected to his body.

While there was a distinct lack of melon bread in the table offerings, the food was still delicious and you scarfed down multiple helpings. There was some tentative chatter amongst the first years; you exchanged your name with a few others, but mostly you and Luna held your own conversation. You've been friends since before Hogwarts, and it's not hard to spot how comfortable you are with each other, so others were discouraged from intruding.

You and Luna exit the Great Hall together and follow the prefects up to Gryffindor tower, then head up the stairs to the female dormitory to pick out a couple beds adjacent to each other. All your luggage was brought up for you, but you make sure to double-check all your possessions, re-examine your schedule, and generally ensure you're ready for tomorrow's lessons.

You and Luna were relaxing in the common room when Ron and Harry appeared in the Gryffindor fireplace. With a start, you realize you hadn't actually spotted either of them at the feast. You bite your lip worriedly and rush over to pry the story out from them.

As Ron tells it, the barrier between King's Cross and Platform 9 ¾ sealed itself shut as they tried to pass through. They had to wait for your mum and dad to come back for the car and send an owl to Dumbledore to arrange alternate means of transport.

As for the barrier being sealed shut, you haven't the faintest idea. You brought up the possibility that it could be related to that house elf that paid Harry a visit over the summer, but they'd already thought of that. All you can do is ask them to be careful, and that if they ever need any help, you're always available.

Before you turn in for the night, your gaze lingers over a diary you found in your earlier check of your luggage. It has written on it 'Property of T.M. Riddle,' and a quick scan through the contents reveals it to be empty. You're not someone who generally puts her thoughts to paper, but you can't suppress an urge to write about your first day at Hogwarts.

When your ink sinks into the pages, you're surprised. What kind of diary is this? When it answers back, you become curious. The diary speaks back to you, but you can't tell if there's a genuine personality hidden within the book or if it's something more akin to a portrait or talking mirror. For now, you write about your day as you originally intended, as if this was a diary that didn't absorb the ink. You feel better after finishing.

* * *

Before your first day can begin in earnest, you track down the twins and nab the Map from them. They looked sad to part with it, but you assured them they'd have it back within a couple weeks. That should be enough time for you to get properly acclimatized to the castle.

It's something of a mild hazing ritual for new students at Hogwarts to fall through trick steps, walk into doors that are actually just decorative, and get turned around by moving staircases. Only by experience do most students learn how to get where they want to go in the castle. With the Marauder's Map as your guide, you can avoid all of these problems.

You think Fred and George were definitely right about keeping the number of people who know about the map as small as possible. A secret weapon like this loses effectiveness every time the knowledge is spread around. That said, you're not going to leave Luna out of the loop on this one. Besides, you can't think of anyone who can keep a secret better than Luna can. You teach her the activation and deactivation phrases, and she helps you use the map to navigate the castle.

You're never late to anything with the map at your disposal. There are quite a few secret passages and shortcuts that allow you to get to classes quickly and efficiently. It allows you more free time to study and relax. You promised Fred and George you'd give it back eventually, so you put an effort in to memorizing as much of it as you can.

The pathways into Hogsmeade you leave alone for now. You don't have a reason to go there just yet, and you'd stick out even if you went on a designated Hogsmeade weekend. You might be able to pass for a third-year student, but you don't want to risk it.

The classes themselves are a let-down, for the most part. You have to force yourself to be patient. The first year curriculum isn't made with an adult intellect in mind. You're still practicing wand-movements in Transfiguration and Charms, and your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Lockhart has proved himself to be an idiot by teaching absolutely nothing of worth. During his class you don't even bother paying attention and read the textbook or do homework for other classes instead. Herbology is interesting on the days you have hands-on sessions, but the bookwork isn't nearly as fun.

Despite Snape being every bit as biased and abrasive as you've ever heard, you find yourself looking forward to Potions lessons more than any other class. The pace of the class is much faster than the others, with the students expected to brew a new potion every single class, and homework often added on top of that. You're forced to study ahead in the textbook just to keep up, but it's rewarding in its own way.

You keep up a log of your daily activities in your diary. It talks back now; the diary calls itself Tom, and it seems like a genuine person if the responses are anything to go by. It's nice to have feedback on what you're writing, and Tom does offer some nuggets of wisdom every once and a while.

* * *

A week into term, you speak to Professor McGonagall after Transfiguration class, and ask her if you can try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Her lips form a line as she stares down at you. "First years aren't allowed a broom, Miss Weasley," she says curtly.

Having expected this response, you simply shake your head no. "I don't need a broom." To demonstrate, you unfurl your wings of fire and hover off the ground a few feet. You look at McGonagall expectantly, whose eyes have gone wide with surprise.

"Oh..! Goodness.." She holds her hand to her heart, and blinks rapidly at your floating figure. She takes a deep breath, collecting herself. "What kind of spell is that..?"

"It isn't a spell. I was born with this ability."

Your explanation doesn't seem to placate McGonagall, but once she starts thinking about what you're actually proposing, a calculating gleam enters her eyes. "Hmm.. can you match a broom in the air like that?" she asks.

You nod confidently. Your brother is the authority on Quidditch in your family, and he says you can play. "I've played Quidditch with my brothers before, Professor. Including Charlie. I can fly."

A faint smile stretches across her lips. "I see. I might be able to make this work.. although Snape might prove problematic.." The last part is murmured more to herself than to you.

You touch down on the floor gently, and McGonagall looks seriously at you. "Very well, Miss Weasley. You have permission to attend the try-outs with the rest of your house. You should ask Oliver Wood when he's holding them. Oh, and you're excused from the first-year flying lessons," she adds as an afterthought.

You thank her for her time, and seek out Wood in the common room. He was dubious at first, but when you told him you had McGonagall's permission, he seemed interested despite himself, and gave you the date; two and a half weeks from now. He was probably thinking along the lines of what happened last year when he obtained Harry as seeker, but you bet he doesn't have any idea just how crazy your tryout is going to be. You eagerly look forward to it.

* * *

After a particularly boring Charms lesson, you stay behind to ask Flitwick a question. You've heard he used to be a dueling champion, so you think he could give you some good advice on an idea you had. He's taken aback when you bring up the subject. "A dueling club? Yes, there have been such things at Hogwarts before. But why do you want to restart it?"

You pause to gather your thoughts. Why did you want to do this? You try to articulate your reasons as best as you can. "Well.. with our Defense teacher being about as useful as a snapped wand, I think the students should take it on themselves to become better at combat. Every witch or wizard has a deadly weapon in their possession. It's stupid to think you'll never have to defend yourself." You're becoming annoyed just talking about it. You-Know-Who's curse on the DADA position has to be one of his most destructive acts, in the long run.

You feel like you should be honest to Flitwick, so you tack on at the end, "Plus.. I like fighting." You smile sheepishly.

Flitwick taps his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm.."

"It sounds as if what you want is a defense club, not a dueling club."

You look confusedly at Flitwick. "What do you mean, Professor?"

Flitwick unconsciously assumes a lecturing pose, as if you were still in class. "Dueling is ritualistic combat between two wizards; there are rules that have to be observed by both parties. Nowadays, it's more of a recreational sport than a method of resolving disputes."

"Using magic for self-defense is a much broader category. A charm like, say, the Disillusionment Charm, is incredibly useful if you're trying to escape a bad situation in the real world, but has limited use in a duel."

He smiles at you. "In either case, you're not forbidden from holding informal sessions at your own leisure if you can find other interested students. If you want official support, I'd be happy to offer my approval if you can convince other students to join and show me how you conduct your meetings."

"Remember that the heart of a club is its members, Miss Weasley. If you approach others with the same passion you approached me with, I'm certain you'll find other students who share your enthusiasm."

You bow your head, thanking the Professor for his insights, and leave the classroom to where Luna's been waiting. You head off to eat lunch together, and you think while you walk. "More members, huh.." you murmur to yourself. Luna cocks her head curiously but lets you ruminate without interjecting.

The obvious choice would be others in your year. They would be the easiest to convince, as there would be no age gap impeding your ability to inspire and lead.

You have ample opportunity to talk to the other Gryffindors in your year. Besides sleeping in the same dormitory, you eat meals and take classes together as well. Unfortunately, it's hard to establish a genuine friendship. You're not disliked; Gryffindors, as a rule, are straightforward in their relationships. You're simply set apart from the rest.

You just don't connect with any of them. Your own manner is too brusque and oddly formal, and your intelligence and maturity only serve to further differentiate you from the rest. The other kids can tell that you aren't the same. It makes you hard to approach.

By extension, it isolates Luna as well, simply because of her proximity to you. You feel a little guilty at limiting her potential social circle. You might not feel lonely, but it doesn't mean she isn't. You asked her about it once, but she smiled and said you were the only friend she needed. You don't know quite how to take that, but if Luna's happy, that's all that matters.

Thinking of Luna, you wonder how you became friends in the first place. If you had to guess, you'd say it's because Luna is very advanced for her age. You might even consider her a genius. In terms of intellect, she's smarter than you are. You first realized this when you saw how easily she absorbed your first lessons. If she had Hermione's drive to excel at schoolwork she'd probably be top of the year.

Fred and George bug you again about getting their map back, and you finally hand it back to them. You think you've got a pretty decent handle on the most immediately relevant parts of the castle. You could still use some more time with it, but you don't want to hog the thing all to yourself. They were the ones who originally found it, after all.

You finish your letters on your first couple weeks of school and send one to Akemi, and one to your mum and dad via the Owlery. Your dad is only a TV-call away, but your mum isn't in on that mode of communication and you doubt she'd use it even if you told her. She's weirdly stubborn about rejecting your dad's hobby. She only puts up with it as long as she can't see it.

* * *

You wake in the middle of the night abruptly. The dormitory is dark, the only light coming from the moonlight streaming in through the window. You feel a vague sense of unease, and your hackles rise. Long-dormant instincts are coming to the fore in response to some kind of outside stimulus.

You concentrate to pinpoint the source of the problem. It doesn't take you long to discover. Meditating on the center of your being, you can see plainly that something is off. Your Existence is.. fading. But how? "A Denizen?" you wonder aloud.

There's only one way you can find out. "Shinban."

The diary resting on your nightstand glows faintly red with your own aura. You pick it up carefully, turning the blank pages. This book is.. draining your Existence? How is that possible?

A sound like shattered glass rings out in your mind, and a hidden veil placed over your thoughts is lifted all at once. You have a startling epiphany about the nature of this diary.

Writing in it felt like a perfectly natural thing to do at the time, but looking at it now in hindsight, you can't fathom why you started writing entries. You're a person of action, you don't keep nightly journals.

The conversations with Tom take on a whole new light. You're not going to be making any more entries, that's for sure. It's not going to drain any more of your power that way. You can only help that the realization of its true nature will shield you from its suggestive powers.

You shiver. You know there's magic that can twist a person's mind. What if someone made you forget who you were or made you do things against your will? There's nothing you can do to protect yourself against it. This was so subtle that you never would have noticed if the diary didn't start trying to suck your energy.

It's your sworn duty to remove threats like these from the world. You give the diary a hard look, but it remains unaware of your thoughts. The first and foremost thing you must accomplish is destroying it.

You're tempted to set it aflame right here, right now, but you stop yourself. You can't be sure it doesn't have defenses against destruction, whether they be extreme durability or even counterattacking contingencies. You don't want to try a haphazard attempt at igniting the diary, only for it to escape your grasp.

* * *

Dear Diary,

_..Hello..?_

Is someone there?

_..Yes.._

Who is this?

_.._

_..My name is.. Tom Riddle.._

This is your diary?

_..Yes.._

I'll be borrowing it for a little bit. Don't mind me.

_..Not at all.._

* * *

I'm going to ask McGonagall about joining the Quidditch team tomorrow.

_First years are allowed brooms now?_

They aren't, but I can fly without one.

_Really now.. how do you manage that?_

I have my own set of wings I can unfurl.

_Impressive._

..It's not that impressive. Like I said, I've always been able to do that. It doesn't take any effort on my part. I'm just lucky.

_I stand by my words. Good fortune itself could be called a kind of skill._

* * *

I'm going to go insane if I have another lecture on the proper way to twirl a wand.

_The curriculum is too slow for you?_

I'm not even that smart. My friend Luna is smarter than I am. I can't believe anyone's still having a hard time with this. They should just tutor the slow ones and pick up the pace for the rest of us.

_Hogwarts believes in quantity over quality. 100 qualified wizards are better than 10 exceptional wizards, in their view. It is unfortunate for those like us._

I can be patient. Maybe I'll ask Flitwick about a dueling club.. that would be something extra.

_Not a bad idea.._

* * *

Flitwick said I should consider a defense club, not a dueling club. I think I understand what he means. But, how am I supposed to convince other kids to join? The other first years are still getting lost trying to go to the bathroom, and the older kids aren't going to listen to what I have to say..

_Age isn't an issue. If you can present yourself well, others will follow regardless of your appearance._

Hmm.. I suppose you're right, at that. Still.. I've always been more of a follower than a leader. I wish Alastor was still here. He would know what to do.

_Flying without a broom is generally regarded as awe-inspiring. Perhaps you can use that tryout as a means to attract others to your side?_

That's an idea.

* * *

_What did you do?!_

What?

_I was just shoved into a black expanse of nothingness. I could not feel you nearby at all. What happened?_

I put you in my dimensional pocket.

_**Don't**__ do that again._

You're a diary, you can't see anything anyway! What does it matter?

_Oh? I see, why don't I trap you in a pitch black small box and hurl you out into space?_

Shut up. I don't want to talk to you.

* * *

I've made it two weeks without a single point docked from Gryffindor by Snape. I think it's a record, but nobody's really kept track.

We'll be starting the Levitation Charm tomorrow, and some basic Transfiguration. I'm excited that we'll finally be using our wands.

_I notice you haven't used your dimensional pocket._

..It's not a big deal carrying you around.

* * *

_Your abilities.. how did they first manifest? Where do you suspect they come from?_

I've told you this before, but I've always been able to do that.

_Still.. I can't help but feel you're holding something back. Can't you tell me?_

I..

I've got to go. Sorry, Tom.

_..Tch._


	6. Diary Headaches

You shove the diary into Yogasa for the moment. Tom said not to do that, so you can only deduce that doing that very thing will be an inconvenience for him. Hopefully, he can't affect you from there. You feel a guilty twinge, which is then quickly overwhelmed by a surge of annoyance at the fact that you feel guilty in the first place. Tom is _not_ your friend. If he's suffering, that can only be a good thing. The fear you're feeling right now can be traced back to that annoying little book.

The diary has broken your illusion of invincibility. Having your Existence drained like that has opened the door to the possibility that you could actually die. It's ironic, because you've never, ever been afraid of death. It was practically your duty to die as a Flame Haze. Every Blazing-Eyed Flame-Haired Hunter before you died in a blaze of glory, summoning Alastor the Crimson God to the field to obliterate a foe that no mortal could possibly match. It was only the fortunate circumstances of your birth that allowed you to survive using that suicide technique.

You have a life here that you don't want to relinquish. However you spent the rest of your days as Shana, you don't remember them. You're sure you treasured them, but by then the danger had passed. In this time and place, you have an uncomfortable feeling that even if you vanquish this diary, there will still be more dangerous times ahead.

A fiery spark of determination blazes behind your eyes. You won't be giving this life up without a fight. You've always known that to be brave isn't to be fearless, but to fight on despite your fears. Even if you haven't yet found a purpose for your existence, you still have value.

As for the diary.. you're going to take it to Professor McGonagall. You don't quite trust your own mind to be able to finish the thing off. You're operating without any real information on what this diary is and what it can do. To make a hasty judgment could prove fatal. If you bring others into your confidence, you can lighten your own burden. You feel guilty that you're imposing on McGonagall like this, but you suppose it is in her job description to help students when they ask.

It weights on your mind the longer you keep it on you. You have to remind yourself that your worry is coming from you, and not any external source. The book hasn't left your dimensional pocket; it shouldn't be able to touch you. Finally, your Transfiguration class ends and you stay after class to speak with McGonagall.

"I need your help with something important, Professor McGonagall."

She adjusts her glasses and stares across her desk toward where you're standing. "What is it, Miss Weasley?"

You grimace. You feel as if, the moment you take the diary out, it'll start shouting obscenities at you while hexing you into jelly. Your breathing is a little heavy with nervousness. "One moment," you say, holding up a hand for time.

You yank the diary out in one swift motion and slap it on the desk. Fortunately, it doesn't explode. "I need to destroy this."

She carelessly picks it up and turns it over, examining it. She flips through the pages idly, and you feel a mad urge to slap the thing out of her hands. She gives you a dubious look, which only serves to aggravate you. "Miss Weasley? This is a diary. Are you feeling alright?"

You force down your irritation with a force of will. Acting like that won't win you any favors with McGonagall. You put as much feeling as you can into your next words. "_Please._ I wouldn't ask if I thought I could do it myself. I'm afraid I won't be able to if I try. Just.. humor me." There's a faint note of desperation in your voice toward the end.

McGonagall heaves a sigh and takes out her wand, pointing it at the diary. "_Evanesco._" Whatever was supposed to happen, doesn't, because the diary's still lying on the desk untouched. McGonagall's eyes narrow at the paperback.

She taps her wand on the book's cover and says, "_Diffindo."_ A jet of light strikes the cover of the diary head-on, but nothing else happens. McGonagall grimaces in irritation. She gives the book one last tap and murmurs, "_Incendio._"

A tightly controlled stream of flame passes over the diary, but it simply rolls over the book. She extinguishes her spell immediately when she notices it not having any effect. She sighs, then turns back to you.

"I'm afraid I'm out of ideas. You have one sturdy book there, I can tell you. Where did you find it?" She looks down at the item in question with curiosity. You want to shout at her. _It's evil! Kill it!_

Some of your aggravation leaks into your voice against your will. "I don't know! Are you sure you can't destroy it?"

She frowns at you. "If you want rid of it so badly, I can take it off your hands."

"_No!" _you shout vehemently. You won't be satisfied until this thing is dust. "It has to be destroyed. Can't you think of anything else? Anything at all?" you ask desperately.

McGonagall's patience has obviously stretched past its breaking point. You're surprised she even did this much, if you're to be honest with yourself. "Enough, Miss Weasley. I fail to see what has you so worked up, and unless you have an explanation for me, I suggest you leave for dinner." She gazes at you sternly over her rimmed glasses.

Perhaps you should've started from the beginning when you first came in. Your impatience to destroy it must've gotten to you. You accede to her request, and start from the top. "I've been writing in that diary; and it's been writing back. Only, I noticed the other night that it's making me weaker. Then I realized I would never keep a diary in the first place."

You look plaintively at McGonagall, willing her to agree with you, to see your side of the story. "Please believe me, Professor. There's something very wrong with this diary. I don't know how to prove it to you. I don't want to write in it again.. I've been keeping it in my extra pocket; it said it didn't like that, so I figured I'd be safe that way."

She stares at you for a moment longer in silence. "..."

Then, she speaks. "The only person who would know better than I would be Dumbledore. Are you saying that this diary is worth troubling the headmaster? If you cause a fuss over nothing, I won't go easy on your punishment."

You have to stop yourself from jumping in elation. "Yes! Yes, it is. Can we go see him?" you ask hopefully.

Her frown is back in full force again. "Miss Weasley, the headmaster is a busy man. I'll ask him to spare some of his time, but you can hardly expect Professor Dumbledore to come running any time a first year-"

McGonagall is interrupted by the voice of a familiar kindly old man. "Did someone say my name?"

Your head whips to the side so fast you hurt your neck. McGonagall looks no less surprised. "Headmaster!"

Professor Dumbledore peeks in curiously through the classroom door, chuckling. Then he enters and strides over toward where you and McGonagall are positioned. "What seems to be the problem?" he asks the room at large, his gaze alternating between you and McGonagall.

McGonagall doesn't immediately reply, so you take the initiative yourself. You pick up the diary and hand it out to Dumbledore, then repeat the brief explanation of events as you understand them that you just gave McGonagall.

He scratches his long beard with one hand while turning the diary over in the other. His expression never changes in the slightest; showing nothing but patient curiosity. You fidget in anticipation, waiting for the headmaster to say something. "Do you know where you found this, Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore finally asks.

You frown. "I don't know. I didn't buy anything like that. At first, I assumed my mum had packed it for me. The first time I saw it was in my luggage when I went up to the dormitories for the first time."

"Hmm.. a mystery, indeed," Dumbledore murmurs. He turns to look at you with his eyes twinkling. "I can't tell you how grateful I am that you came to Professor McGonagall with this, Miss Weasley. You may have saved a lot of lives in doing so."

McGonagall herself looks flabbergasted at the headmaster's pronouncement. She gives the diary a second visual inspection, but apparently can't find what it is the headmaster's seeing. After that, she shrugs it off, having long become used to the eccentricities of Albus Dumbledore. "Will you be able to handle her problem from here, Albus?"

"Indeed, Minerva. Follow me, Ginny."

He exits the room, and you leave McGonagall's classroom behind. You follow after him through the halls of Hogwarts until you reach a gargoyle standing sentinel in front of a door. "Sherbet Lemon."

The gargoyle stands aside and a spiral staircase rotates around, allowing you and Dumbledore entrance to what must be the headmaster's office. You trail behind Dumbledore, taking in the sight of his cluttered office, and the portraits of previous headmasters lining the circular walls. There's a phoenix perched on a raised platform staring at you with beady eyes.

Dumbledore coughs to bring your attention back to him. "If I'm not mistaken, you would like some closure on this matter. Understandable, but I'm afraid I won't be able to explain everything." He says remorsefully.

You feel your heart sink. This is now out of your hands completely, unless you want to go against Dumbledore. If he's not up to the task of destroying the diary, you've just made a huge mistake. "I can confirm what you already know; this is an immensely dark artifact of a kind that I've been seeking for some time now. I can assure you that I have the means to destroy it. Rest assured, you won't have to worry about it falling into anyone's hands ever again." You want to believe in his words; you _should_ be able to, but you simply can't. You need to see it being destroyed firsthand. Nothing else will give you the peace of mind you're searching for.

"When are you going to destroy it?" you ask.

Dumbledore fields your question, and you're grateful he's still answering you. "It will take some preparation to perform." He leans back in his chair, folding his arms in front of him.

You hesitate before your next words, but you plow on regardless. "..I want to witness its destruction. It's the only way I'll know."

Dumbledore regards you with a serious face. "My word isn't good enough?"

You maintain eye contact as you reply. "No."

He looks taken aback for a second, perhaps at your sheer audacity. "..."

He recovers quickly enough. "I'm afraid I can't expose you to the dangers this diary poses. It will be most dangerous in the hour of its demise. I can send you a message when the deed is done, but I can't take you with me," he says, a definite tone of regret in his voice.

You grimace, but answer, "..Yes, sir."

That's what you say, but you have other plans in your mind. With Shinban, you can spy on even the headmaster's office if you feel like it. You'll see the diary destroyed, one way or another. You give your thanks to Professor Dumbledore and exit the headmaster's office, before he can tell you something absurd like 'don't spy on me.' You wouldn't put it past him to guess your thoughts like that.

Funnily enough, Dumbledore must have been lying about preparations being needed. That very night you use your flaming eye of sight to espy Dumbledore directing an intense fire toward the diary suspended in mid-air in his office. It takes the shape of a herd of wild animals; wolves, hyenas, and jaguars tear the diary piece by piece. You can hear the screams echoing off the walls. There has to be some kind of muffling effect around the room, or half the castle would be waking up to the racket.

Dumbledore himself stands calmly in a barrier of protection shielding him from the diaries increasingly feeble attempts to attack him. You very nearly shout in anger and give away your spying position when you notice the flame lashes it's sending at Dumbledore are composed of your power. _That thieving little.._

You're glad Dumbledore is able to protect himself. If the diary stole your power to kill him.. that would be about the worst possible result imaginable. Soon enough, its resistance falters and the screams die out. Nothing but a charred pile of ashes on the floor remains of the diary. Satisfied, you dispel Shinban, but not before you notice Dumbledore shooting a glance in your direction. You have the uncomfortable feeling he knew you were there the whole time.

Even so, you're satisfied. The diary is destroyed. Dumbledore is just as powerful as you've always heard, and you have new faith in the Hogwart's curriculum. Wizarding magic can be impressive, you'll just have to work towards it. You wouldn't mind learning how to conjure some of those flames Dumbledore was using. You look forward to your lessons, even if they might be boring.

* * *

Luna's happy that you're back to normal. You feel bad about excluding her in this. Even if it seemingly happened all at once, you should have made time to inform her of what was going on. You try to make amends by filling her in on your mild 'adventure' and spending more time by her side. It's not much; you were basically doing everything together, anyway. You can only hope she'll let go of any hurt feelings.

Classes have started to fall into a comfortable rhythm, now that all of the students have adapted to how things are done here at Hogwarts. You're finally starting to get into the meat of actual coursework that your teachers have planned for the year. The Levitation Charm is added to your repertoire, as is the Forgetfulness Potion and the Knockback Jinx.

You breeze through your assignments, acing all of them effortlessly. They just aren't challenging to your highly developed mind. You study ahead in the free time you have available. At the rate you're going, you'll probably finish all your first year studies in half the time.

In your other bits of spare time, you head out to the Quidditch pitch to do a bit of flying. All things considered, you haven't actually put a great deal of time into perfecting your skill at aerial maneuvering. Even if you used to be a natural at it, you're in a new body with slightly different capabilities.

Your frame isn't that far off from what you were before. A little shorter and smaller, but you weren't very big as Shana. In a couple years you'll surpass your previous size, unless you stop growing. A shiver of fear shoots through you. To be cursed to be tiny in two separate lifetimes..? No. No way is that going to happen. Even if your mum is barely five feet tall herself.. stop thinking about this. You came out here to fly.

Right. It shouldn't take too long to adapt. You were born to soar across the skies. You flare your wings into existence and accelerate lazily into the air, testing out the winds. It's a cold, late autumn afternoon. Luna is reading one of her father's magazines in the stand, but you can tell that she's paying at least peripheral attention to you.

You accelerate across the pitch in a burst of speed. Your wings beat behind you, but it's just for show. The propulsion is entirely driven by your Power of Existence. It lets you have a fine degree of control over what directions you can move while you're in the air. You can turn on a dime almost instantly as long as you dissipate your momentum crisply and evenly. You can break and accelerate from top speed to full stop in mere seconds.

The sky is your playground.

You lose yourself in practiced motions. Having mastered the art of combat from Alastor, Shiro, and Wilhelmina, your movements through the air are calculated and precise. You beat your opponents by being faster, smarter, and stronger than they are. When you have the Quaffle in your hands, you zoom down the pitch looking for the easiest path to the goal and shoot. Simple, but effective.

When the sun starts dipping below the horizon, you begin your descent. The hours have passed in what feels like minutes. You touch down on the ground gracefully and blink your wings out of existence. Luna's gentle clapping rings in your eardrums, and you turn to see her walking toward you with a smile. You can't help but smile in return. You weren't exactly trying to put on a show, but you did want her to be impressed, and you obviously succeeded. You walk back to the dorms arm in arm, chatting about flying, Quidditch, and school.

You repeat your performance once a week, making sure to take the pitch when no one else is around. You want to keep the surprise fresh for the rest of the students. By the end of September, you're supremely confident in your abilities in the air and fully ready for the Quidditch tryout.

* * *

You follow Oliver Wood onto the Quidditch pitch, flanked by your brothers Fred and George. Oliver's carrying an dented ornate case of Quidditch balls in his arms, and your brothers have their brooms slung over their shoulders as they walk. You're arriving early, but you don't have anything else to do and you don't want to miss the tryouts by accident somehow.

Stepping into the stadium, Oliver drops the case of Quidditch balls onto the ground and turns to face you. His eyebrows furrow and he scratches his head confusedly. "Where's your broom, Weasley?"

Fred and George wave their brooms around in front of Wood's face. "You blind, Oliver?"

Wood shoots an irritated glance in their direction and slaps away their hands away with barely a thought. "Not you.. oh." He trails off when he sees you hovering a foot off the ground, your crimson wings unfurled behind your back.

Fred and George snicker at the flabbergasted expression on Wood's face. You'd bet anything they distracted him at that moment for precisely this reaction.

His expression returns to normal rather quickly, however, and it soon becomes a look of anticipatory calculation. He shoots off a couple of rapid-fire questions, staring intently over your shoulder at the shimmering flames. "What's your top speed with those? How's the acceleration?"

You strain your brain for a response, but come up empty. It's not like you set up devices to measure yourself. You could estimate, but you don't want to get it wrong and look foolish later. "Um.. I don't know." You chuckle uneasily. That's not a great first impression.

It makes sense to Wood though, as he nods in understanding. "Right, you wouldn't be able to measure.. well. I suppose I'll find out in just a bit, won't I?" he asks rhetorically. There's excitement in his movements now as he starts opening the ball case. You can tell his passion for Quidditch is immense even in just the couple minutes you've spent with him.

The rest of the Quidditch team hopefuls straggle onto the pitch. Wood is filtering people as they arrive into groups based on what position they're trying out for. Amongst the chasers you're one of six hopefuls, five girls and one boy. Not a single seeker hopeful shows up, and only one keeper and three beaters. It's a rather low turnout. You theorize it's because the team is already very good. It'll be hard for anyone to land a spot with the competition as tough as it is. You don't think Harry's even here- not that his presence is really necessary. His spot is locked.

Still, reserves are needed in case someone gets injured. By attending tryouts, you put your name out there as a potential replacement. That's not for you; you plan to start.

Wood starts with the chaser group first, to weed out the largest pool of hopefuls right off the bat. You draw not a small amount of second, third, and fourth looks at your luminescent wings of flame sprouting from your shoulders. No one comments on it directly, but it's obviously in everyone's thoughts. The fact that Oliver is playing everything as if it were perfectly normal is dissuading anyone from saying anything.

You run a series of drills with different aims. In the first, you simply have to make a pass at the goal and score against the keeper. You're up first. You try your hardest to duck, feint and weave to hit the open hoop. Each goal gets progressively harder to score as Wood starts to adapt to your wily and quick movements. On the last one, Wood saves it by pretending to bite on a feint and then zipping in the opposite direction to snag your Quaffle with his fingertips. It's a highlight reel save, and it leaves you feeling miffed. Now all someone has to do is score five and your score will look unimpressive.

But you don't have to worry. Wood is an amazing Keeper, as the next two hopefuls after you don't make a single goal. The next two make three goals apiece, and the final contestant makes two. Your score stands as the highest.

That's not the end of the tryout. Fred and George are utilized in the next drill, and two sets of bludgers are released. You're confined to one half of the stadium and forced to dodge an endless onslaught of bludgers hit your way by the beaters. You go in reverse order this time, making you last. The goal of the exercise is to see how long you can maneuver before getting hit by a bludger.

Katie Bell, the girl who scored twice, makes it two minutes before being brought down. Alicia Spinnet, one of the three-goalers, reaches two and a half minutes. Angelina Johnson is the other three-goaler, and she makes it two minutes and fifty seconds. The ones who scored no goals don't even break forty seconds.

When you're up, the adrenaline spikes through your system. This is your kind of drill- how many times have you dodged projectiles while fighting? Not only that, it's a chance to show up your brothers, and that's an opportunity you never let slip away. When the drill starts, you dance and weave through the air, turning backward, sideways, forward, all the while making it look natural and without needlessly wasting any energy.

At the five minute mark, Wood himself takes to the air with an extra bludger and a bat of his own. It still doesn't make any difference. Given half the field to work with, there would have to be a complete bullet hell for you to fail to dodge the incoming projectiles. At the ten minutes mark, Wood calls truce and gives up. You give a cheeky thumbs up to the thoroughly exhausted Weasley twins moaning and massaging their arms and bounce over back to the Chaser group with a spring in your step.

The last drill is a combo offensive/defensive one. You're matched up against your best competition here; Angelina. Katie and Alicia are matched up, and the other two probable reserves are matched up against each other. The defending chaser has to stop the offensive chaser carrying the Quaffle from making it past half-court, starting from their own goal.

The offensive side for you is a breeze. Your top speed outclasses Angelina's by a significant margin and your acceleration is faster too. There's just no way she can get in your way to block you before you make it to half court, even with her best attempts to cut you off. Your five sets go by with flawless victory for you.

The defensive side isn't so easy. Angelina fakes you out with a convincing feint and blows by you on the first set. The second set, you don't let yourself get taken in, instead focusing squarely on the Quaffle and dive straight for it. Your small frame bounces off hers and she powers through, leaving you slightly dazed in the aftermath. You resolve yourself to get a stop on your third set.

Angelina breaks left in a mad dash to reach half-court but you sail down from below and punch the Quaffle with your fist, sending it toppling out of her grasp and toward the ground. You dive down to catch it and secure your victory. The fourth and fifth sets go similarly, despite Angelina's hardened attempts to keep the Quaffle secure. She has to keep at least one hand on the broom, which means she can only cradle the Quaffle with one arm, making it vulnerable.

Alicia bests Katie seven out of ten combined, and the reserves half-heartedly split theirs five to five, without a single defensive victory. The results of the tryout are pretty clear. You, Alicia, and Angelina are going to start. You cheer in jubilation and head to the stands to join Luna. You catch sight of Katie glaring angrily in your direction before she notices your scrutiny and wipes her face clean. She stalks off into the locker room by herself. An unpleasant feeling overtakes your earlier good mood. Is Katie alright?

The team is largely the same as last year; you're the only new addition. Once the tryout ends, you're bombarded by requests from the reserves to show off your wings some more. The Quidditch team members themselves don't look entirely disinterested either. You feel a little hesitant, your mind flashing to Katie's glaring visage, and you turn them down. "Just wait for our first match," you say confidently.

Once everyone clears out, you head down to the locker rooms yourself, sending Luna ahead to the castle. Katie never came out, but you don't think anyone else noticed. Well, Luna obviously did, because she's observant like that, but she's not going to meddle.

You nearly slam into the opening door as Katie exits right as you approach. When she spots you, she halt in the doorway and stares at you with a blank expression. Her eyes look slightly red, and you think you can spot the remnants of tear tracts running down her cheeks. "What do you want?" she asks in clipped tones.

You feel a jolt of nerves, suddenly feeling rather inadequate. What did you come here for again? "I just thought you might be mad at me, from how you were acting.. I wanted to know if you were okay."

Her mouth twists into a grimace, and you have to hold back from flinching at the tone of her voice. "I'm fine." It looks like she wants to say something else, but she holds herself back. She makes to move past you, and you panic slightly.

"Why are you mad at me?" you blurt out, before she can leave.

She halts mid-stride, almost tripping over her own feet as she turns a disbelieving look in your direction. She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. "Because you cheated?" she asks harshly.

The bold accusation puts you on the defensive, and you scowl. "What? I didn't cheat!" you say indignantly.

She matches your stare with her own harsh expression. "Really? The last time I checked, Quidditch was played on brooms. Not.. those." She waves toward the space behind you where your wings would be if they were active.

You're taken aback. Your initial reaction is to disregard what she's saying. But then you remember the haggard look she wore just before she spotted you as she left the locker rooms. You'd bet anything she'd been crying all by herself. You want to find something, anything that you can say to reassure her, but you can't find the words.

She snorts derisively. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. If you've got McGonagall on your side, I'm sure you'll be allowed to play," she says dismissively, waving her hand.

She starts to walk away, but then she stops. She shoots a glance over her shoulder and says in a quiet voice, "Just make sure you win." She disappears around the corner, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

* * *

You meet up with Luna that night in the common room, and tell her about the confrontation with Katie, and what she said about you cheating. "Do you think she's right?" you ask. You can't trust yourself to be unbiased in this situation, so you want to know what Luna thinks. You value her opinion as an objective observer.

But Luna just turns the question back around, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. "Do you?"

"No!" you burst out in frustration. You don't cheat. You're a moral, upstanding person who doesn't resort to underhanded tricks. If you thought what you were doing was cheating, you wouldn't do it at all. Still, there's a seed of doubt planted in the back of your mind. "I mean.. well. I don't know," you trail off lamely.

Luna turns a page in her Quibbler idly. "If you don't think it's fair, maybe you should quit," she says airily.

You shake your head vigorously, denying her words. "No, that's not it!" And it's not. The root of your anxiety lies somewhere else. You try to articulate your thoughts out loud to Luna. "I guess I just felt bad. She's probably spent a lot of time training to make the team, and then I took her spot without even trying."

Luna closes her magazine and lays it on the table, then brings her hands beneath her chin in a thinking pose. "Hmm.." You sweat a little under her scrutiny, feeling the urge to look away.

She cracks a smile at you, and speaks in a gentle voice rather reminiscent of her mother's. "Ginny.. you're already better than everybody at everything. You'll have to get used to showing people up. I think.. a lot of people aren't going to like you because of it," she concludes sorrowfully.

You run a hand through your hair, staring into nothing and getting lost in her words. "..I see.." You can understand what she's saying, even if you don't have much experience in that area. You cast a curious look back to Luna, who's gone back to reading. "What about you, Luna?" You keep the worry that she'll abandon you out of your voice.

She doesn't look up as she says, "I wouldn't worry about it. You saved my mum's life. You'll have to try really hard to get me to dislike you. Your Luna Approval Rating is at least 90%."

You make a face at her. "Was that supposed to cheer me up?"

Luna looks up, her look effecting surprise. "..It didn't? Huh, I thought I did it right," she says, her face falling in disappointment. You bring a palm to your face partly in exasperation, and partly to conceal the smile on your face.

* * *

You consider how to frame your request of McGonagall, and decide to start with the diary that Dumbledore destroyed. However, McGonagall merely looks puzzled when you bring it up to her after class.

"The diary..?" she says, her face screwed up in remembrance. She takes the quill she was writing with and drops it in the ink pot, then turns in her chair to face you.

"Um.. you know, when I came to talk to you?" you prompt worriedly. Had she really forgotten already?

The light of realization dawns in her eyes. "Oh! Yes. Dumbledore took it, didn't he? That was nice of him," she says, smiling indulgently.

You're a little confused about what she's saying here, but you gloss over it and continue with your speech. "Well, it got me thinking about the dangers of the magical world, and what we can do to prepare."

McGonagall's expression turns neutral. You continue speaking, "Gryffindors are more likely than most to get into trouble of that sort, right? I was thinking that Defense Against the Dark Arts really isn't enough. We should be more prepared."

"Go on.." McGonagall says slowly. She folds her hands across her desk, waiting for you to finish your piece.

"I want to form a Defense Club: one where we could better learn to protect ourselves. But I'd probably need some help to get it off the ground. It's still my first year, after all, and I hardly know anyone yet. It'd be really helpful if you could offer any kind of support."

McGonagall's lips form a thin line and she closes her eyes as she sits in contemplation. "A Defense club, hmm..?" she murmurs to herself.

She opens her eyes and stares straight at you, speaking frankly. "Personally, I'd love to see students becoming more proactive in their education."

She shrugs helplessly. "I can't do anything for you but offer advice, however."

You can't stop the disappointment from showing on your face. "You can't help with recruiting? Why?" you ask in what you hope isn't a petulant tone of voice.

McGonagall reverts to her usual authoritative teaching voice, rather than her more personable one on one voice. "There is little point in exercising my authority as a teacher to encourage other students to join. They must do so because they share your enthusiasm for the subject. Clubs come and go as time goes by, it's up to the student body to determine whether or not there's enough valid interest for a club to reform," she says, as if reciting something from a rulebook.

Her lips curl up into a small smile at your resulting sigh. "I wish you luck in your pursuit, Miss Weasley."

* * *

A simple query to Fred and George reveals the location of the kitchens and the 'password'. The twins tell you that the house elves inside are more than happy to receive any visitors, so there's no need to sneak around or steal food. If you ask them for something, they'll bring it to you gladly.

Your mouth salivates at the prospect of melon bread. If you acquire a recipe from Akemi, the elves should be able to make some for you. You could also try making it yourself, but that's bound to go poorly. Cooking and you don't mix. But on the other hand.. you'll never get better if you don't try. Maybe if you had someone to help you through it.. yes, this winter break would be a good opportunity. A quick owl sent to Akemi with a request to visit over the holidays wraps up that little bit of business.


	7. Quidditch and Clubs

You spend less time reading ahead in your own time, only setting aside brief periods for homework so that you can concentrate on your latest project: the Defense Club. A plan is beginning to take shape in your mind. For the first phase, you approach your brother Ron in the common room one night.

He's reading a book about the Chudley Cannons by the fireplace when you tap him on the shoulder to get his attention. "I need you to help me gather people for a club I'm starting. You're member number three," you say.

He looks up and behind him in surprise. "Huh?"

You continue on as if he hadn't spoken, crossing your arms in front of you and continuing in an authoritative voice, "Talk to your friends for me. I'm going to be handing out snacks in the Great Hall tomorrow night after dinner and I want them to come."

"Wha-"

You slap him on the shoulder and smile winningly at him. "Thanks, Ron!" You turn around and leave him sputtering behind you, your mission accomplished.

* * *

Now you need to secure the food. Armed with Akemi's recipe sealed inside your dimensional pocket, you follow Fred and George's directions to the secret passage into the kitchen, and make your way inside. The elves are not at all surprised nor hostile at an unexpected intruder into their domain.

They get a bit less friendly when you ask to hijack part of their kitchen.

"Cooking is for elves! Not people! Please, Miss, let us do the cooking," the head elf whines piteously.

You shake your head stubbornly, jutting your chin out and planting your feet, holding your ground. "No way. I'm doing this myself."

His face falls in disappointment. "Miss.."

The expression he's wearing is so pathetic you can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy, so you throw him a bone. "Sorry. But I could use some help!" you add hastily.

The elf's face perks up instantly at that, and a sparkling glint appears in his eyes. That should've been the first tip off that not everything was going to go as planned. The second was when he called all of his elf co-workers over to help you make some melon bread. All twenty of them.

Basically, the process is taken out of your hands as soon as you start. The little house elves are surprisingly assertive when it comes to their cooking and cleaning. There's nothing you can do without starting a fuss that would attract unwanted attention to your presence here.

Every time you move to add an ingredient or stir something, an elf inevitably gets annoyed with how you're doing it and takes over for you. It leaves you feeling a bit miffed, but you suppose that this _is_ their kitchen. You'll have to find your own if you want to do this without interruption.

You give up halfway through and just leave the rest to them, taking a seat on the counter and glowering at the possessive rascals. You don't learn anything at all just watching them cook. On the other hand, the goods are guaranteed to be delicious this way. Your ire fades as the smell of melon bread permeates the kitchen.

You take one for yourself and munch happily on it, then stuff the rest in your dimensional pocket. When you leave the kitchens, you find that quite a lot of time has passed and that dinner has almost started. You make your way over to the great hall, humming contentedly.

* * *

You set up shop as people start filing into of the Great Hall. Hopefully with their minds already on food they'll be more inclined to take your stuff. The elves made a ridiculous amount of melon bread, and threw in some eclairs and cakes too while they were at it. You take plate after plate of goodies out of Yogasa and lay them out on the Gryffindor table.

You holler out to any nearby students, trying to attract not just Gryffindors but other houses as well. **"Free food here."**

When an acceptable number of people have gathered around your loot, someone at the front asks you a question, and you take the opportunity to start talking. "What's all this, then?" a tall fourth year Hufflepuff asks.

You motion toward the food with one arm. "This is a bribe. You eat my food, and I get to talk at you."

The Hufflepuff raises an eyebrow at you, but nonetheless picks up a piece of chocolate cake and starts munching on it. The other people surrounding you do likewise. "Go on.."

You assume a lecturing pose, with your left arm supporting your right underneath the elbow and your right index finger pointed skyward. "Have you guys noticed how we get a new Defense professor every year? The quality just keeps getting worse and worse as we run out of teachers to hire."

Your speech has a rehearsed sound to it, because that's exactly what you did. You wanted to be sure you'd say what you wanted to say clearly and succinctly. "That's why I want to form a Defense Club. We'll be doing a lot of the same stuff as Defense Against the Dark Arts, except with more of an emphasis on the practical stuff, and not a lot of book-learning."

"It'll help you pass your exams, it'll help you fight against dark wizards or magical creatures, and you'll be more confident and powerful in general." You nod at the conclusion of your own speech, and reach to grab a melon bread to nibble on.

While you're mesmerized by the treat in front of your face, another student asks a question. "Who's the leader? Who's gonna teach?"

You turn your gaze reluctantly away from the tasty morsel, and smile mysteriously at the inquirer. "That.. is a secret," you say teasingly.

You repeat your speech a couple more times when more students come to eat your food. Ron, Harry, and Hermione stopped by as promised, and they did say they'd come to whenever you scheduled the first meeting, if only to see what it would be like.

That was the sense you got from most people, which is less than you hoped but more or less what you expected. All you have to do is get them to come to one meeting and you're sure the rest will sort itself out.

* * *

You're getting ready for more groundwork; namely, you're passing out flyers advertising the first meeting of the Defense Club. Your fellow yearmate, Colin Creevey, actually knows quite a lot about wizard photography and helped you affix a picture of a fire-breathing dragon and a wizard casting a Shield Charm onto your flyer. You secured via McGonagall an empty classroom to hold your meeting in. For all that she said about not being able to help you out, she still managed to do something for you anyway.

You've hit your first snag, however. Luna doesn't really want to help you get the flyers out to people. She looks pretty reluctant to even consider the idea. "I'm not really.. good at that. Convincing people, I mean."

You frown. "Don't worry about it, this first phase is all about spreading the message. Even if only one out of fifty people say they'll come, that's still one more than we had before!" you proclaim encouragingly.

You feel a little bad for asking, but you want Luna to be included in this. Even if she's not the most social person, she's still your friend, and you like doing stuff with her. Besides, maybe if she comes along she'll lose some of that anxiety. You never worried about that kind of thing even in your old life. If someone doesn't want to hear what you have to say, then you don't care about them. Your ego isn't so fragile that a schoolkid can wound it.

Luna does a terrible job at passing out flyers. She's not assertive enough to approach people, so she spends most of the time standing around awkwardly. You direct a few people her way to grab one when you're talking to a large group of people, so she has something to do occasionally. You can't say if bringing her along was a success or a failure by the end, but you don't regret it. You do the same thing every other day for the next week, making sure you reach as many people as possible.

You have a hard time convincing any Slytherins to come. It seems that Draco's been badmouthing you to his housemates, ridiculing your attempts to form a club. It doesn't help that you're in Gryffindor, either. Your houses are naturally opposed in the first place.

It gets on your nerves. Malfoy doesn't harass you directly but he's still trying to get in your way however he can. The worst part is that there's not much you can do to stop him. All you can do is overcome the additional difficulties. That, and perhaps plan a little revenge later on.

* * *

The day of the meeting, you make sure to head down to the kitchens to procure some snacks and refreshments for your first meeting. A little extra buttering up couldn't hurt.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione are among the first to arrive. Ron automatically drifts towards the food, and Hermione and Harry follows after him. People continue to trickle in, taking some food and drink from the refreshments table and then either standing around or taking a seat at the desks. By the time of the start of the meeting, there's fifteen people in the room, not counting yourself or Luna. The oldest are in fifth year, but most of them are in first through fourth. You nod approvingly to Luna beside you. "Not bad. Considering the amount of effort we expended, fifteen people might not seem like a lot, but.."

You turn to face her, smiling. "They'll be spreading the word once this is over. I guarantee it."

You turn back to the room at large. "Ahem," you cough pointedly. Your voice goes unheard in the din of conversation permeating the room. You frown in irritation. "Hmm.. this is no good."

Utilizing a part of your Shinban-derived Power of Existence, you project your voice from the top of the room. It echoes off the ceiling and the walls, filling the ears of everyone directly. You speak loudly and clearly in a commanding voice,** "Attention."**

Quiet falls immediately. Heads turn to look for the source of the voice. You jump on top of a table to bring attention to yourself and say, **"Thank you."**

You let the power drop, but continue standing on the table. It gives you a better vantage point to see everyone from, and helps to establish your own presence. "Now that everyone is here, I'll start us off by talking about what we're doing," you begin.

You sweep your gaze across the assembled students and cross your arms in front of you. "We're learning to fight. Not that scholastic stuff we do in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but real fighting."

One of the older students pipes up, "So, who's going to be teaching us?"

You put a hand on your hip, staring the questioner in the eyes. "Me, obviously."

There's a chorus of muttering at your proclamation, none of it very charitable.

"Pffftt..! What does a first year know about defense?"

"Yeah! What was all that about it being 'a secret' if it's really just you?"

"This was a waste of time.."

Their words are plainly audible, but you pay them no mind. Nobody's left yet, so you obviously still have their attention. "Hmph, I'm disappointed. Am I really going to have to do a demonstration for you?" you say haughtily.

One of the skeptics looks doubtfully in your direction. "What kind of demonstration?" he asks.

You'd expected something like this might occur, but you'd really hoped that people would take you at your word when you said you could teach them. But if you needed to instill confidence in your abilities.. well, that wasn't going to be hard at all. "Hmm.. well. How about you, you, you, you, and.. you." You purposely pick the mutterers and their friends; two third years, two fourth years, and a fifth year.

You give them a severe look. "Try to jinx me."

While they process the incomprehensible command you've just given them, you shout out to the rest of them. "Everyone, clear a space!" you call, motioning for the desks and tables to be levitated out of the way. The classroom you've borrowed is a medium-sized room, so an impromptu arena is the best you can manage.

Everyone else backs against the walls, leaving just you and your five opponents squaring off against each other. They all clearly look dubious at the apparently stacked odds, but they draw their wands regardless. "Go," you command.

"Stupefy!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

You blur to the side to avoid the first couple hexes shot your way, then call up power surreptitiously in the hand held behind your back. You let it build for a few seconds while keeping your eyes on your opponents like a hawk. Any attack they make is telegraphed well in advance, even if the spell travels incredibly fast. All you have to do is predict their trajectory and make sure you're not in the way.

They're not coordinating their attacks. Each one is simply pointing their wand at you and casting whatever spell comes to mind. If they concentrated their fire, it would be impossible even for you to dodge all of their curses. But the incoming spell-fire is staggered and ineffectual.

You dash forward, gliding past another hex, and then you thrust your hand forward to fire a blast of flame right into the group. They scatter away in all directions from the blast, shrieking in alarm. _Divide and Conquer._

To the closest, you deliver a swift chop to the neck, dropping him like a stone. Without breaking stride, you step over his fallen body and accelerate forward in a burst of speed to punch the next in the gut. He falls over, down for the count.

The entire exchange doesn't take more than five seconds. The other three have only now recovered their wits. The quickest among them has had a bright idea, and is using one of the desks as a shield to hide behind and fire more spells at you. The other two move to copy his innovation, but one of them is ill-placed toward the center of the room, and has too far to run to make it behind cover. He seems to realize his plight just as you advance in his direction.

The other two fire more curses, trying to cover their comrades retreat, but you position yourself between him and where they're firing from, so they can't keep it up without hitting him. You grab him from behind, snagging both of his arms and wrenching them behind his back, holding him with an iron grip. "Don't fight me," you whisper into his ear.

You use him as a human shield to advance on the barricaded remainder. They hesitate to shoot at their buddy, and seem at a loss for what to do to stop your approach. All they do is keep ready, waiting to cast a spell as soon as they can find an opening.

You don't give them one. You throw him bodily into the desk they're hiding behind as soon as you get within five feet and he slams into it, caving it in and throwing them both on their butts. The thrown boy lies in a pile of the remains of the desk, dazed and incoherent.

You extract Nietono no Shana from your dimensional pocket in one swift unsheathing motion and ignite it. The flames lick the blade, casting brilliance across the entire room and illuminating your hard-set face. You grasp the hilt in both hands and lower the blade menacingly. "Give up," you say coldly.

The first one throws his hands in the air in a panic. "I give! I give!" The second one simply ducks his head, moaning piteously. You internally scoff in derision. You didn't even do anything to him. Yet.

You clonk them both over the head with the hilt of your blade. They cradle their bruised craniums with one hand while glaring half-heartedly in your direction. "W-what the heck was that for.." the first one moans.

You snort derisively, and let Nietono no Shana's light fade. You sheathe it back in Yogasa before you reply. "In a real fight, your enemy doesn't have to stop just because you surrender. This isn't a duel," you lecture.

You brush your hair out of your face and turn to face the rest of the room. There isn't a person there who isn't looking on in stupefied shock or horrified fascination. Well, Ron is looking grimly resigned, but he already knew something like this was going to happen.

"I hope that settles any doubts," you say pointedly. You glance back at your fallen 'competitors.' "Someone should make sure they get to the Hospital Wing after this.. and we'll need to tidy up the room, too." You wave nonchalantly at the scorch marks on the ground and the destroyed desks. At least one of the hexes your opponents had thrown had been pretty destructive too, as you know you didn't cause all of this.

A quiet voice breaks the stifling silence while you're surveying the damage. "Um.."

You turn to home in on the voice and ask, "Yes, Hermione?"

"I still have some questions, though.." she says meekly. The casual violence has obviously thrown her off her rhythm, and she's not the only one. But to Hermione's credit, she's still able to think intelligently despite that.

"How were you going so fast? And you seem stronger than normal too.." she wonders, looking at you speculatively.

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. That's a question even you don't fully know the answer to. You're not a full-fledged Flame Haze, you're unmistakably human, but you still have a lot of Flame Haze qualities; namely, the super strength and speed, for starters. "That's just the way I'm built. It's not a spell or anything."

Hermione doesn't look satisfied by your answer, but she doesn't press the issue. "I see.. but then, how can you teach us about fighting? None of us can move like that," she points out reasonably.

You clap your hands together and nod. "Good question! I'll go back to the previous demonstration to help make my case."

You point to your defeated opponents. "It's about tactics!" You begin pacing up and down the front of the classroom. Everyone's eyes are glued to your movements.

"It was five on one, right? So how'd they lose?" you ask rhetorically. "They didn't work together. If they'd lined up their spells right, they could've dropped me in five seconds. They didn't even think of using teamwork."

You shake your head ruefully. "Not only that, they were too hesitant. Either they should've broken position to run when I approached with a human shield, or they should've attacked head on. All they ended up doing was waiting, letting me have the initiative."

You gesticulate animatedly, your speech and enthusiasm picking up steam as you speak. "It's not just tactics that I can teach you, either. I can give you serious fighting experience. I'm sure you're all still shaken up from how quick and brutal that was, right? And you weren't even the ones fighting. If you're going to protect yourself in the real world, you're going to need to be able to stand up to that kind of strain. I can help you there."

"So," you say, smiling. "I hope I'll see you all next time we meet. This was just a little introduction, and a chance to meet everyone. The real stuff will begin next time."

The excited buzzing of chatter breaks out amongst the constituents of your group at the conclusion of the meeting. Some students help with the clean up, while Harry, Ron, and Hermione help you bring the injured to the Hospital Wing. You feel giddy off your success, but you still make sure that they're all okay before you head back to Gryffindor Tower with Luna.

* * *

Luna hasn't commented about the meeting, until she speaks up in the common room that night.

"Uhm, Ginny.." she says haltingly.

You angle your head in your direction to indicate you're listening. She continues, "Are you going to send people to the Hospital Wing at every Defense meeting?"

You raise an eyebrow questioningly at her. "I wasn't planning on it.. why do you ask?"

She looks sideways at you. "Well.. I was just thinking that it would really make the club live up to its name. Anyone who survives being in your club must have some extraordinary resiliency."

You fail to hold back a grimace. You were perhaps a little too hardcore in your first meeting. It turned out that a couple of those boys had broken bones that needed to be mended. Madam Pomfrey fixed them up in a flash but it was still undoubtedly incredibly painful for the injured. "Erk.. alright, so maybe I got a little carried away.. but they're fine now, aren't they? If they can't handle being knocked around a little bit I don't want them in my club anyway."

Luna nods her head thoughtfully. "I suppose that's true. Still, it would be rather unfortunate for you to scare everyone away before you got a chance to show them how to protect themselves."

The way it's phrased makes it sound like a thinly veiled criticism, but there's enough plausible deniability that you know if you retort angrily, Luna isn't going to acknowledge it and will instead play the 'I'm so oblivious' card. She's fiendishly infuriating that way.

So you bypass that part of the interplay and skip straight to the introspection. You're forced to consider that she's probably right, as usual. You should probably be gentler with your club members. You smile at Luna and say, "Thanks for the reminder, Luna."

Her eyes turn slowly in your direction, and a slight smile crosses her face. "Anytime," she says softly.

-

Despite the team's efforts to keep your peculiar method of flying under wraps, it's inevitable that it would leak out eventually. Word of your flaming wings of fire eventually reaches the teachers' ears. One teacher in particular has something to say about it.

Snape intervenes at practice one day, calling everyone down from the pitch and ordering you to leave and come back with a broom. Oliver argues on your behalf for a couple fruitless minutes, with Snape's ire increasing dangerously every second the disagreement continues.

As if she'd foreseen this eventuality, McGonagall arrives moments before Snape looks like he's about to blow a gasket to come to Wood's rescue. The two teachers argue heatedly about the precise legality of fire wings as a means of flight. You're almost afraid they're going to draw wands on each other when they both mutually decide to consult the Headmaster.

Wood is forced to stay behind, but you're dragged along in the two angry teachers' wake because you're directly involved. You feel very nervous about what Dumbledore might have to say on the subject, but you'll be seriously disappointed if you're not allowed to play after all the time you've spent practicing.

You needn't have worried. Dumbledore allows it, with the provision that your wings aren't harmful. Which they aren't, and you demonstrate it for him. Though they may be visually intimidating, they aren't actually hot unless you make them so. He throws Snape a bone by mentioning that if he makes the rules explicit in the necessity of a broom, that you will be disqualified. Snape looks like he's about to consult the Quidditch bureaucratic handbook immediately when the meeting concludes.

You're safe for the moment, but you doubt Snape has given up that easily. He sends you a nasty glare before parting ways with you. McGonagall apologizes for the trouble and assures you that you'll definitely be able to play, no matter what Snape wants. You hope she's right.

* * *

The twins are by themselves in the common room without their friend Lee Jordan, so you take the opportunity to take them aside for a chat.

"Hey, you two," you call, taking a seat opposite them.

They look up from whatever they're working on. "Yes, sister?" Fred asks.

You rest both hands beneath your chin and lean forward inquisitively. "You guys have been on the team for a a while now, right? What are all the members like?" you ask.

George hmm's thoughtfully. "Well, there's your wonderful, charming, intelligent-"

You bop him on the head for his stupidity and shoot him a cross look.

He rubs the bruise on his forehead gingerly with a wince. "Ow.. now that was just rude. As I was saying, there's us, the beaters. We're pretty good, I think. We work real well together, which is something not a lot of beater teams can say. We'll never be professional Quidditch players but I don't think there's a better pair of beaters in the school."

Fred flashes a victory sign from his side of the table. "We have sparkling personalities and everyone who matters thinks we're awesome."

You bring a palm to your face in exasperation. "Idiots.." you mutter.

Fred grins unashamedly and takes over for his brother, continuing, "Oliver took over the captaincy last year, and he's been the Keeper since his second year. He's real good, and his work ethic is absolutely nuts. He puts more time into training than Hermione does studying. I'm not even joking. He's not got huge natural talent like Harry, but I wouldn't be surprised to see him going professional when he graduates."

His gaze moves toward the opposite end of the common room where Harry and his friends sit studying. "Harry, well, you've met Harry. Not much to say there other than he's brilliant on a broom. A little shy, but a good bloke."

George sighs wistfully, resting one hand on his cheek and looking longingly over at a trio of girls sitting around a table. "Alicia and Angelina have both been with the team a couple years. Angelina's fast, tough, and smart. She'll probably take over once Wood graduates. Alicia plays a more passive, assisting role but she's damn good at it. They're both nice girls, though Angelina's got a bit of a temper on her.."

Fred snickers at his twin. "Oy, you're only saying that 'cause she hexed you for asking her out."

George shrugs, as if to say, 'yea, so?' "Doesn't mean it's not true, does it?" he asks rhetorically.

He then turns to you. "Well. Is that what you wanted to know?" he asks.

You smile back and nod gratefully. "Yes, thank you."

You remember with a start about the other thing you came over here for. "Oh, there's one other thing as well. I tracked down Malfoy on the train before we got here for a little talk." You smile fondly in remembrance.

Fred, seeing the happy expression on your face, cracks his own anticipatory grin. "Ohh, what did you do?"

"I beat the crap out him, and told him to lay off me or my friends," you say with satisfaction.

Both of them turn their heads toward you, looking simultaneously amused, exasperated, and anxious. "..I don't know why I expected anything else from you.." Fred says weakly.

George sighs dramatically. "Our sister is such a brute. How will she ever find a bloke?" he laments mournfully.

You curl your hand into a fist and glare heatedly at him. "Why you..!"

Fred points at George and raises his arms in an 'I'm innocent' gesture. "He said it, not me."

George scowls. "Traitor!" he yells, shaking his fist.

"..." You heave a heavy sigh, the ire draining from you abruptly.

"_Anyway._ That jerk has been telling me off to his house buddies. I want to get some payback. You guys can help me out here, right?" you ask hopefully.

The twins share a meaningful glance. "Pranking Lucius Malfoy's son? You don't even need to ask."

You smile gratefully. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Sure."

* * *

You have a letter from Akemi saying that you're welcome over the holidays, and to let her know when you want to come over. You set it aside and pen a new series of letters to send out.

You add your note to Xenophilus to Luna's own correspondence with her parents. She has her own owl to use for the task, and it saves you a couple Knuts to piggy-back on her delivery. The rest you use the school owls to send. One to Charlie about Quidditch, one to your parents, and the last to Bill. The benefit of having a large family is that you automatically know a lot of people with varied life experience that you can call upon when you want to ask something.

Charlie was a Quidditch captain, and you're curious as to how things were done when he was on the team. You plan to practice properly with him the next time you see each other. As good as you are at flying, you still aren't very good at playing with others as a team. You keep in touch with your parents because you know they want to hear from you, even if you don't have much to say. Bill can hopefully give you some advice on spells for the Defense Club. You appeased Hermione's concerns at the meeting slightly, but she still had a point. The older students are miles ahead of you in spell-casting ability, and you need to advance in that area quickly if you want the Defense Club to be a success.

As to why you wrote Xenophilius.. well, he's an interesting guy, and definitely has a unique perspective on the world. Exchanging messages with him will be, if nothing else, something fun to do. At least one person here has the proper respect and fear that a veteran Flame Haze should command.

* * *

Hermione finds you after breakfast one morning to ask something. It's a question she's already asked, and apparently she hasn't forgotten about it like you thought.

"What kind of magic were you using?" she asks plainly as you both walk down the hall.

You shrug, shooting a glance to your side. "None, really. Like I said at the meeting, I was born this way."

Hermione's brow furrows in consternation, and she frowns at you. "I've read books on how the human body works. You look like a normal girl to me, so it should be impossible for you to move like that.. are you sure there's no magic involved?"

"Hmm.."

You glance around at the hallway. There are still a couple students coming and going in both directions. You motion with your eyes that you intend to take the conversation somewhere more private. Hermione nods her assent and follows behind you to an empty classroom.

You shut the door behind you and face Hermione. You don't plan to delve into your past life, but you can at least make it clear that you'll answer whatever she asks to the best of your ability. "Yeah, there's probably magic involved somewhere. But the truth is, I don't really know," you begin.

"So you learned as you grew up? When did your powers first manifest, and how?" Hermione asks intently, her eyes glued to your form, her gaze hungry for any morsel of information she can pry out of you on the subject. It's not an endearing trait. Hermione doesn't quite have the concept of boundaries down yet.

"Like I said, I was born with my abilities. I've been able to do this stuff since I could walk. Luna's dad has a theory that a fire spirit shares my body or something," you say offhandedly. Hermione has no way of knowing just what kind of person Luna's dad actually is, so she'll probably lend undue credence to his words.

"A fire spirit? What's that?" Hermione wonders, her face scrunched up in remembrance. She must be coming up short on what she can recall from her reading.

You shrug helplessly. "I don't know. I wasn't curious about it. My extra powers are a part of who I am, I don't need to know where they come from." _Because I already know,_ you finish in your head.

Hermione would obviously like more closure on the origins of your powers, but she resigns herself to putting the mystery off until she has more clues. "So.. what else can you do, then?"

It's a very general question, and not one that lends itself to an easy answer. "A lot of stuff."

Hermione's eyebrows furrow in consternation. "Stuff like..?"

You frown. "Stuff like stuff. You really want to know that badly?" you ask rhetorically. Obviously, that she's here, days after the fact, that she's tracked you down specifically to find out, would indicate she indeed wants to know that badly. One would almost think she's bored that no other mysteries have presented themselves.

She falters a bit under your scrutiny, stuttering out the start of her reply. "W-well.. I've never seen or heard of anything like this, I mean you're not a werewolf or a vampire obviously, although there is some scant evidence supporting the idea that phoenixes could take human form.. you aren't a phoenix, are you?" she asks, rambling.

"Not to my knowledge," you answer, but she's already moved on.

"Anyway, I've looked through lots of books but I haven't found a single real clue as to how you can conjure fire without a wand or lift a table without breaking a sweat. But there has to be some kind of precedent, right? Can't you give me some more details?" She gives you a hopeful look.

You scratch your head nervously. "This is bugging you that much?"

"Yes!" Hermione practically shouts. Her cheeks redden after her outburst.

"Hmm. Well, I have my own storage space. It's where I keep my sword." You pull it out from Yogasa as a demonstration, holding in out in front of you for her inspection.

She looks it over thoughtfully. "So, the flaming sword isn't some kind of conjuration..? You actually wreathe a sword in fire?" she asks, looking up at you for confirmation.

You nod in affirmation. "Yes, that's right."

Her eyes trace the length of the blade, but she avoids putting a hand on it. She seems to recognize that its sharp. "Is it magical? Maybe goblin-forged..? What else can you do? Are your abilities fueled by mana?"

You answer each of her questions. "Yes, no, stuff, no because I have two separate mana pools, and stop asking so many questions at once."

Hermione blushes, looking downward to avoid your gaze. "S-sorry.."

The clock on the wall chimes for the hour. You look at it and then glance back to Hermione. "It's time for class, I need to go."

Hermione becomes flustered, scrambling to grab her books. "Oh, no, you're right! I have to get going now or I'll be late..!" She grabs everything and rushes out the door, her things precariously held in her grip and barely paying you a backward glance.

"Bye, I'll talk to you later, Ginny!" she calls as she leaves the room. You sigh as you follow after her. She'll probably grill you about everything you can do whenever she gets the opportunity. It's not really a problem, but it is tiresome. You're fine with her knowing all your powers, if it sates her curiosity.

* * *

Bill's letter is full of just the kind of information you need for the Defense Club. To get your spell-casting ability up to par with the older students, you need more than just what regular classes can offer you. With his handwritten notes and a borrowed library book to guide you, you master the Disarming Charm after a week of practice.

You still need things to talk about with the Defense Club in the meantime, but you're not lacking for ideas. True to your own predictions, the second meeting has more people than the first. A few extra friends and a new face here and there brings your count up from fifteen to twenty-one. Not to mention you have a 100% retention rate; even the boys you put in the hospital wing came back for a second meeting.

You start off with a short and to the point lecture. Due to your small stature, you have to take a page out of Flitwick's book and stand on a table to make yourself visible to everyone. "Adaptability is what I'm going to talk about today."

"What is the greatest thing about magic?" you ask rhetorically.

"In my opinion, its versatility. If you can think of it, there's probably a spell for it. It means your opponent is never going to know what you'll bring out next." It was the same way with Restricted Methods. The truly gifted spell-casters like Margery could make their Power of Existence do practically anything.

"But what it also means is that you can't predict what your opponent will do. This is where adaptability comes in. The ability to think on your feet is possibly the greatest asset a wizard can have." Your gaze lingers over Harry, Ron, and Hermione as you speak. Could they have made it through the protections around the Philosopher's Stone without being adaptable? You doubt it. It's why you think they have a lot of promise as fighters.

"Alright, how about.. you, you're close. Help me with a demonstration." You point your finger at a second-year in the front row.

The boy in question looks from side to side, trying to figure out if it's him you're pointing at, then comes forward. He wasn't here the first time, but he smiles confidently and introduces himself. "It's Seamus." he says, offering a hand toward you to shake. You grasp it tightly, nodding, then push him off toward the center of the demonstration area.

"The first step to being adaptable: don't panic."

You turn to face Seamus, concentrating on your Power of Existence, letting it take shape. "Hien!"

A wave of fire advances menacingly on Seamus, and he scrambles backward, desperately trying to avoid being burned. The sheet of flame crashes over him and then extinguishes abruptly, leaving him smoking on the ground and moaning in pain. You check anxiously on him to make sure he's alright. It was an extremely low powered blast, surely that wasn't too much..? It looks like he's just singed, maybe first degree burns. Once you're satisfied, you continue your lecture.

"When you're caught off-guard and all your options are taken away, it's very likely that you'll panic. If you're panicking, you're not thinking straight. How can you prevent that from happening? Nobody can say that they'll always have a backup plan. The moment you think you can't be surprised is the moment you will be surprised."

"You need to be focused. Always have your objective in sight. Everyone has their own ways of analyzing the situation. Whether it's being focused on staying alive, finding a solution to a problem, or just helping your friend, as long as you have a goal in mind that you can reach for, you can keep your head in a crisis."

You lower a hand down for Seamus to take, now that he's sitting up and rubbing his face gingerly. He takes your arm gratefully and you hoist him to his feet. "And the second step to being adaptable: don't get complacent. It's instinctual for our brains to seek out patterns. If I come at you a certain way every time, you'll start to think that's always how I'll come at you, even if you know that's not true in your head."

You shove Seamus back toward the group and snag a third-year girl for your next demonstration. Once she has her wand drawn and ready, you ignite a multitude of small hand-sized fireballs that hover around your person, waiting to be fired. You send the first shots in, bombarding her constantly with small attacks, and replenishing your ranks of fireballs as needed.

She dodges to the left, and back to the right, then forward.. you make sure that your projectiles keep attacking from the same angles and in the same order every time. Then, on the third repetition, you completely change up the pattern. Instead of hopping out of the way, she hops right into one and the fireball smacks her right in the face.

She waves off your concern when you approach, covering her face in one arm, then walking back to her friends in the group. You address the club. "She naturally adjusted her guard position to account for my previous strikes, leaving her wide open to the change in my attacks."

You repeat your question from earlier. "How do you avoid this? Again, experience is the greatest teacher. The second you feel your mind settling in to a pattern, you need to reevaluate the battlefield again. Never take anything for granted."

"The motions of combat are practiced and instinctual, but the larger decisions and the overall plan is all about strategy, forethought, and preparation."

You smile gratefully at your two guinea pigs. "Thanks, you two, for being such good sports. Now you can sit back and watch everyone else have a try."

What follows next is you being as inventive and surprising as possible using any means at your disposal to try and surprise the next opponent with something you haven't shown yet. This exercise isn't about dodging skills, although those can always be honed as a side-bonus, it's about learning to analyze in the midst of combat.

You're circling the drain by the end of the session, having already done mass mini-fireballs, man-sized fireballs, fireballs that ricochet off the floor, throwing levitated chairs, disarming charms, waves of flame, streams of flame.. for the last person you just tackled them to the ground and stole their wand. That one wasn't really fair, but you couldn't think of anything that might've surprised the last person to go at that point.

Before everyone can leave, you address them one final time. "There's a third part to being adaptable that I haven't talked about yet, but we'll have to leave it until next time. Keep an ear out for when I announce the date."

You think you've got a good start going here. People are starting to recognize you even without having met you before. Depending on how the upcoming Quidditch match goes, your fame within the school only stands to increase even further.

* * *

You're a little concerned with your friend's shyness. She stays unobtrusive during the meetings, despite the fact that she has more right than most to take an authoritative position in the club. Not to mention her awkwardness when you were laying the groundwork to attract people.

After brainstorming some ideas for the problem, you come up with the idea of having her serve a more active role in the club. By appointing her as an official consultant, people will learn to ask her about things they need clarification on, and Luna will be able to talk about things she's more knowledgeable, and thus more comfortable about.

But Luna just looks at you quizzically when you propose the idea. "..?" She searches your face for the motivation behind your actions, and it doesn't take her long to figure it out when you look away, embarrassed.

Luna pats your hand, smiling gently, while you try to will your blush away. "Ginny, you don't have to worry about it," she says softly.

Wrong-footed, you gaze into the fireplace to avoid looking at Luna. You've never dealt with gratitude well. "Huh?" you blurt unintelligibly.

"It's not a problem that needs fixing. I'm not as.. outgoing as you are, but I'm not lonely or feeling left out."

"I.. that's not.." you stammer weakly. You peek your head sideways at Luna, gauging her expression. She shakes her head, not seeming discontent at all, merely accepting.

"I'm glad you want to help, but you don't have to do anything here."

You turn to face her, brushing your hair out of your face. You look at her with concern evident on your features. "Are you sure? You seemed kind of uncomfortable at the meeting.." you say uneasily.

Luna doesn't deny it, nodding thoughtfully. "I was, a little. But that's just because there were so many new faces, and a lot of them were older. Really, you're worrying too much, Ginny," she says, patting your thigh.

You sigh, exhaling a long breath. "..You're right, but I can't help it. I always worry about my friends." You smile ruefully at her. Pushing the point now would just be insensitive, and you can't say she's not right. Only she knows how she's really feeling.

A grin spreads across her face, lighting up her features. "Thanks. You got five Luna Approval Points for that line."

You roll your eyes in exasperation. "I'm so happy," you reply sarcastically.

* * *

You're building up to a potential duel with Kingsley, but there's a slight problem in your plans. He doesn't know about it yet. You've told Akemi you want to fight him, but you haven't spoken to Kingsley himself about it. If you can get him to understand that this is important to you, you think you can get him to play along.

You'll bring it up with him when you visit over winter break. You've sent a letter to him about it, and how you're looking forward to dueling him. There isn't really a doubt in your mind that it will happen, so he might appreciate a little forewarning before you spring the idea on him.

* * *

After changing into your Quidditch uniform, you survey the rest of your team. Everyone looks determined to beat the Slytherins, even Fred and George. There's no love lost between your two houses, and Quidditch is the ideal arena to settle grievances without breaking any school rules.

"Are you nervous?" Harry asks you curiously.

You give him a strange look. "No. Why would I be? We're going to crush them."

Regardless of their new brooms and seeker, and their ridiculously burly lineup, your team is just that good. Practice has gone amazingly and you're psyched up to take Malfoy down a peg. Losing isn't even a possibility in your mind.

You flare your wings to life, and the crowd oohs and ahhs as you take to the sky. Word has indeed leaked out about your method of flying, but very few people have actually seen you do it in person. Your fire trailing bright red through the air ensures that eyes will be glued to you almost the entire match.

You grab the opening tip off in a burst of acceleration, then focus all your attention on finding a way through the Slytherin defense. The crowd noise fades into the background. You feint around a Slytherin chaser, dip lower to avoid an incoming bludger, and fly across the keeper to put in an easy layup for the first score.

Harry and Malfoy are active in the highest reaches of the pitch, circling anxiously and trying to spot the snitch. Harry has to roll sideways to dodge a bludger hit in his direction. You need to take attention off Harry to let him do his job. You shadow Angelina and get ready to tag team the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint, in a blocking maneuver.

He barrels down the pitch with the quaffle held under his arm. Angelina rockets straight for him, and he doesn't waver. They're set to collide at a high speed, but at the very last second, Angelina leans to the side and punches the quaffle out of his grasp while simultaneously avoiding being plowed by the much bigger Flint.

You snatch the descending quaffle from where Angelina hit it and then engage the afterburners to race to the end of the pitch. You approach the keeper without any of the defenders able to catch up to you in time, swerving left and right to fake him out. You angle right when you reach the posts, tossing in another score, making it 20-0.

Harry is still under pressure from a bludger. In fact, now that you look longer, it's chasing him even after he dodges it once, without any beaters hitting it toward him. The bludger has been tampered with somehow, but what can you do about it? You rush over to Wood and urge him to call a time-out, pointing animatedly in Harry's direction. He quickly catches Hooch's attention and assembles everyone on the ground once time is called.

Harry is adamant about continuing the game. They don't reschedule Quidditch matches, after all, so you'd have to forfeit if you wanted to stop the game. He's confident in his ability to dodge the rogue bludger, and Fred and George make sure to have his back. You, Alicia, and Angelina will operate on your own, trying to occupy the attention of the opposing beaters and chasers so that Harry doesn't have more than Malfoy and the bludger to deal with.

Despite you running up the score to 70-0, the Slytherins are still trying to get at Harry. Anytime they get the Quaffle it's a high-stakes game of keep-away as they don't even try to score. They've realized that one of the bludgers is on their team; that they've only adjusted now makes you think they weren't actually the ones behind it. They're just waiting for Harry to get blown off his broom and the game will be theirs.

But if they're not going to aim for your goal, all the chasers can play up to try and steal the quaffle back. Though your scoring slowed down when they shifted to their stalling strategy, now that your side has compensated you're picking up steam again. You've added two more goals to your first seven, and Angelina scored once as well, making the score 100-0.

It's then that Harry finally spots the golden snitch and makes a desperate play for it. Malfoy has enjoyed a leisurely game so far, not having to dodge many bludgers and simply shadowing Harry to make sure he doesn't catch the snitch. It leaves him just unprepared enough to have to chase after Harry when he makes his dive.

With his vision tunneled in on the snitch, he doesn't see the rogue bludger careening in from the side. Your team shouting warnings isn't enough, and he's rocked by the impact into rolling around his broom. Amazingly, he keeps his forward momentum going and reaches out to grab the snitch with the last of his strength before crashing into the ground.

Hooch blows the final whistle as Harry holds the snitch up in triumph. His other arm is bent at a disturbing angle, some of the bone poking out of the skin, but he's so hyped up on adrenaline that he doesn't pay much attention to it. Everyone converges on his position, elated at the victory and worried about their teammate's injury.

You get a sinking feeling in your chest when you see Lockhart approaching the group with his wand drawn. Once again, everyone is left as a helpless bystander while Harry weakly protests Lockhart's ministrations. It gives you an uncomfortable flashback to when something similar happened in Flourish and Bloots. No.. this won't happen again. Regardless of whether he's a teacher, if you can defend your actions, hopefully you won't get into trouble.

You block his path, standing between him and Harry and glowering fiercely at him. "We're going to the hospital wing."

He smiles disarmingly at you, flashing his pearly white teeth. "Come now, Miss Weasley, surely you can see he's in pain? I'll have him fixed up in a jiffy!"

You shake your head stubbornly, crossing your arms in front of you and flaring your wings more brightly. Alicia and Angelina take a standing position on either side of you, and Lockhart's at a loss for what to do next, floundering to find the right words to get you to move.

It buys enough time for McGonagall to come rushing down to the pitch to attend to her seeker. She wards off Lockhart with her mere presence, and shepherds Harry into a magical levitating stretcher to carry him to the Hospital Wing. The rest of the team follows after.

You whisper to each other about the rogue bludger as you walk through the empty corridors. You're the only one who isn't placing the blame on the Slytherins. Sure, they were gleefully trying to take advantage of the situation, but simply from how the match started and how their strategy changed as the situation became apparent is enough for you to conclude that they were just as surprised as you guys were.

You return to the common room for a victory party. There are already developed wizard photographs of the match turned into banners papered onto the common room walls. There's the decisive moment where Harry breaks his arm but catches the snitch, but there's also a few of you flying across the skies and scoring effortlessly. The final score; 250-0, is painted in huge letters over the fireplace. Hermione says it's the worst defeat the Slytherin Quidditch team has suffered in 106 years, and the first time they've been shut out in a match for 16 years. Their chances for the Cup this year have plummeted drastically.

You enjoy the party, dragging an unwilling Luna around to bask in the crowds that form around the team. You get a little bit too into it at one point, acquiescing to a random request to fly around the common room, and then people from the Defense Club asking you to shoot fireballs at photos of the Slytherin Quidditch team. It's fun, but you're completely tired out by the end of it. You follow Luna up to the dorms and hit the sack before McGonagall can come yell at everyone to stop.

* * *

_"Psst."_

You're accosted on your way to lunch by the twins hiding underneath a staircase. You walk over to them to see what they want.

George starts talking to his brother, but his words are unmistakably meant for you. "Malfoy's been having a real bad week, hasn't he? It would really suck if someone were to play a prank on him right about now."

"Yeah, I can't imagine who would do something like that," Fred agrees.

"Hey, it's Ginny!" George exclaims in mock surprise, acting as if he's just now spotted you standing here.

You roll your eyes. "I am a vengeful shrew. Let's skip the routine, and you can just tell me what you want me to do."

"Hmm, well. We need a little help with this one. See, we've got this lovely letter from Malfoy senior to work with; and we've copied his handwriting with our amazing writing skills. We'd like to send little Draco a fake letter from his dear ole dad." He hands the already penned fake letter over to you, along with the original intercepted post. The fake one is paired with a Howler envelope.

Your eyes scan the contents of each. The real letter is simply a terse message inquiring about Draco's grades and affirming that he received his new broom. The fake letter is a long dressing down of Draco as inadequate in every possible way, from looks to brains. Your eyebrow raises at how identical the penmanship is. "Wow, this is.. really accurate. That's a weird skill."

"Handy, though," George says airily.

You squint in their direction, a thought having occurred to you. "..I bet you two have got both our parents handwriting down pat, huh?"

"Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies."

"..How'd you get his voice, though?" you wonder aloud, pointing to the Howler envelope.

"Actually, the handwriting does it for us. We can imitate his style so well that we fool the Howler into thinking it really was written by him," Fred explains.

"So basically, I just have to smuggle this into Malfoy's regular post sometime."

"Right in one. However you want to do it, it's all in your hands now. This beauty is our contribution, the rest is up to you." They leave you with those as their parting words.

You keep in your dimensional pocket for now. There's no need to go after Draco while he's already reeling from the Quidditch loss. No doubt he'll be back nastier than ever in the future, but there's no expiration date on your little surprise so you can wait until you decide it's needed.

* * *

You have one more Defense Club meeting set up before the month of November comes to a close. Both fortunately and unfortunately, the classroom you've been using is not up to the task of holding the fifty or so people milling around when you arrive.

Between word of mouth kicking into overdrive and the Quidditch match, your 'Club' is now more like an 'Association.' When the meeting time starts, there's a least sixty people here. You can't keep track by counting because people keep moving around and new arrivals keep straggling in.

"..This is a problem.." you murmur. All the seats are taken and the people forced to stand are cramped up next to each other, there's so little space to use. Without any immediate recourse available, you simply carry on with your routine. You hop up on the table as usual, and most of your regulars snap to attention, but the hum of conversation keeps on going despite your calls for quiet.

Your eyebrow twitches in annoyance, and you utilize your echoing sound trick again. **"Pay attention, damnit!" **you shout angrily.

A hush falls over the room immediately. "This is the room we've been using, but obviously this isn't going to work from now on. I'll have a solution ready for next time, but for now just bear with it."

You squint in the direction of the back of the room. "And if you're just going to whisper to each other while I'm talking, leave! Why are you even here?" you demand impatiently. The pair in question look away sheepishly.

"I talked about adaptability last time, and I said there was a third part, and that third part is preparation. It's so much easier to make adjustments when you've already got alternatives and backups planned. I think today is a great indicator of where a failure of preparation is a failure adapt to changing circumstances."

"I didn't expect this many people, so I didn't have anything in place should we need a larger space. It's not a big deal here, but you see what I'm getting at, right? It wouldn't have been totally unreasonable of me to think I might need another classroom."

"The first and most obvious way to prepare is to learn more spells. Even with what you're learning already, there are tons of spells that you can research in the library that they don't cover in class. It's a good idea to spend some time there to expand your arsenal."

"The second way is to obtain more resources. This can be anything; another wand, a holster, some darkness powder, a combat-capable pet.. anything you can use to get an edge."

"And the last way is people. They don't have to be your best friend, they could be a business partner or a friend of a friend. Every person you have at your side increases your protection. It's why you should never make enemies if you don't have to. You never know when you could use that person's help."

You're finished with your mini-lecture, which wasn't even that long, but you still spot a third-year boy snoozing with his head resting on the desk. You step deliberately over to him and the rest of the club holds its breath. You lean down next to his ear and shout.

"_**Wake up!**_"

He jumps up, flailing his arms in a mad panic, and falls backwards with the chair, slamming into the ground and almost upending the desk. You wait with a hand on your hip and your other tapping impatiently on his desk, glowering at him. When he finally manages to struggle upright, you grab his hand and pull him to his feet.

You smirk at him. "Hmph, just for that, you're today's guinea pig. I'm sure you've heard what usually happens to my guinea pigs, right..?" You let out an evil chuckle. The boy's face pales noticeably.

"Here's your task: defend yourself. I'll give you.. 2 minutes. 2 minutes to come up with anything; _anything_ at all you can think to use against me. Once the time limit is up, I'll be coming for you. That time is starting.. now." You hop on to the desk and take a seat, closing your eyes and listening to the murmurs break out.

You quirk open one eye in annoyance. "Listen, if you're just here to see me fly around and blow shit up, that's fine, as long as you at least pretend to care about what I'm saying. That means that you're quiet when I'm talking, _and _during demonstrations. _Got it?_" The room falls blissfully silent. The guinea pig is still thinking on what to do, apparently.

When you finish your countdown, you open your eyes. The third-year has set up a fortress of desks to hide behind. There are a couple tiny windows between them for him to fire spells out of. You're disappointed in this boy's cunning. This was the best he could do? You pull out Nietono no Shana immediately and close the distance to your target.

The angles he can attack from behind his curtain of desks is limited. You strafe your way forward diagonally back and forth whenever he tries a new hole to attack from. You could probably dodge anything he sends your way with your speed, but this way you don't have to worry about it at all. It takes you less than five seconds to reach the mini-fortress.

You raise your blade above your head and swing down in an overhead smash, cleaving the wall cleanly in two. A cacophony of crashing sounds fills the classroom as the whole thing topples to either side, having been bisected right down the middle. You point your sword at the boy sprawled out on the ground, and he closes his eyes and curls in on himself. You sigh heavily and sheathe your weapon while tapping him on the head with your hand. He flinches from your touch, but when no pain is forthcoming, he opens his eyes slowly. You pull him to his feet and push him into the crowd.

"Well, that was stupid. Anyone have a better idea? How about you, Harry?" You point to the person you know can come up with something better. "Somebody repair these for me," you command, pointing to the wreckage behind you. You don't quite have that spell down yet, but it's on Bill's list.

After the repairs are complete and the desks are put back in their original places, you signal for Harry to come forward. He's deep in thought, but he still acknowledges your signal. "You ready?" you ask Harry. He nods in reply.

"2 minutes, starting now." You close your eyes and recline backward on your chair.

"And.. now." When you open your eyes, you see the whole club has their wands pointed at you. Your eyebrows raise and you get up from your seat slowly. "I see, I did say people counted.."

Harry makes an apologetic gesture from the back of the crowd. A few fifth years have formed a human shield around him. You chuckle, surveying the room. Nobody's made a move yet. They're waiting to see what you'll do.

"Sometimes, you just have to know when to.. cut your losses!" You turn, flare your wings, and crash through the glass window into the sky outside. Below you, you can see the light of thirty different spells flying out the window after you. The students pack their heads outside, craning their necks upward to spot you, but you've already flown to the highest spires of Hogwarts.

You land on the Astronomy Tower, and cast Shinban to communicate with your club. A fiery symbol appears in the air amidst the club, and they reflexively cast a couple spells at you. "Stop that. It won't do anything," you tell them. They desist with their efforts reluctantly.

"I think it's safe to say you win this round, Harry. I'm glad you took my directions seriously. That's it until after Christmas. Thanks for coming, and I hope I'll see you again next year. Bye!"

You let the connection fade, smiling to yourself. Your club is thriving, and there's barely a person in the school who doesn't know who you are now. You still need to make headway with the Slytherins- you _still _don't have a single member from their ranks, but you have a feeling that as soon as you can get one or a couple, the rest will follow. They're very united as a house; one person isn't going to break ranks or go against the established unwritten rules. All you need to do is get the rules to change.

* * *

Your usual lunch with Luna is disturbed by someone talking to you mid-meal. It's a second-year girl you don't know. She shifts her balance from foot to foot awkwardly, looking anywhere but your face, and wringing her hands in front of her nervously.

"What do you want?" you ask plainly.

She jumps where she stands. "Hi!" she squeaks, rather than answering your question. You narrow your eyes at her. "What do you want?" you repeat.

"C-can I.. sit here?" she asks, her long black hair falling over her face, shadowing her features.

You finish a mouthful of mashed potatoes, then glance back at her. "Yes? There's no rule saying you can't."

"Okay," she says quietly.

The atmosphere is a bit awkward. The silence stretches as neither you nor Luna feel like saying anything. You can see out of the corner of your eye the unnamed second-year girl reaching her hand out timidly toward your shoulder-blades, only to retract it when she gets too close. When it finally becomes too much, you turn to face her. "Do you want to touch my wings?"

"Eep! U-um.. no! I'm sorry!" she apologizes, inching away from you hurriedly.

Since you're pretty sure that is in fact what she wants to do, you ignite your wings and continue eating as if they weren't there. Sure enough, she eventually sidles her way down the bench toward you and moves her hand through your flowing streamers of red. She sighs contentedly.

"What does it feel like?" you ask. She's startled into taking her hand back.

She keeps her gaze down toward her lap. "U-um.. like, warmth? But not hot-warmth.."

"I see.." you reply.

You don't extinguish your wings for the rest of the meal, and she keeps threading her hands through the shimmering flames when she thinks you aren't paying attention. The spectacle draws the attention of everyone else eating, but when nothing else happens, they return to their own meals, and the teachers don't intervene. You're glad Snape takes a lot of his meals in the dungeons, because he might've told you to knock it off if he were here.

"What's your name?" you ask, before she gets the chance to leave when the meal is over.

"I'm Cho.." she whispers, before hurrying away.

"I don't think I've ever met someone that shy," you comment to Luna as you exit the Great Hall.

Luna tilts her head in thought. "..Actually, I think she was just shy because of you."

"Me?"

"Well, you are kind of intimidating sometimes," she informs you matter-of-factly.

You sigh. That's not really a characteristic you cultivate, it simply occurs as a natural extension of your personality. Still, Cho seemed like a nice girl. Maybe she'll open up more if she decides to spend more time with you.

* * *

Hermione stops you after lunch one day, and you wave Luna on ahead, telling her you'll catch up. Hermione watches her turn around the corner, then turns to face you anxiously. "Umm.. do you have a few moments, Ginny?"

"Let me guess, you want to know more about my abilities, right?" you ask rhetorically.

Hermione nods her head rapidly, her book-bag's contents threatening to spill due to her enthusiasm. "Yes, please!"

You nod in response and start walking in the direction Luna went. If you talk while you walk, you won't be late to class. Hermione follows along at your side, a quill and parchment held in place by a clipboard ready for use. "Alright, fine. You've seen me control fire, but it's been small stuff. I can use _much_ more if I want to. If you want a demonstration, we'll have to go out to the grounds sometime," you say, gesturing to the windows peering out over the grounds.

"I can also use it to scry on remote locations, and communicate from a distance. The range is probably around.. ten kilometers? I don't have the precise measurement, but it's quite far."

Hermione jots it all down hastily with practiced dexterity. As she writes, she asks another question. "I see.. do you need to have been to a place to scry on it? Or would a mental image suffice?"

"I just need to know where it is, I don't have to know what it looks like. I input the coordinates into the method and it takes me there," you expound.

She finishes writing, underlining something then putting her quill and parchment away. "Mmm, got it. Thanks, Ginny! Just wait; I'm sure I'll find something that'll give us a clue about your powers," she says, smiling.

You glance sideways at her. "I said this already, but I don't actually care. You're satisfying your curiosity, not mine," you point out.

Her face falls. She furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she stares at you quizzically. "I suppose.. I just don't understand why you're not interested."

You shrug helplessly. If this goes on long enough you might just tell her everything so that she stops wasting time searching for answers. On the other hand, it's possible that your situation here isn't unique. You've never heard of reincarnation occurring before, but that doesn't mean it hasn't happened. Hermione might actually be able to find something relevant if she knew what she was looking for. Maybe in the future you'll look into it.

Her eyes light up in remembrance. "Oh, I almost forgot! Harry was visited by that house elf, Dobby, again in his dorm last night," she says quickly.

A frown crosses her face. "He said something terrible was going to happen this year. I'm a bit worried, but we've been alright so far.." Hermione trails off uncertainly, nervously scratching her cheek.

You roll your eyes, outwardly exasperated. "I'm pretty sure that elf is just insane. Trying to injure Harry so badly he'd have to quit school? I'd take whatever he says with a grain of salt." Inwardly however, your thoughts flash to the diary that Dumbledore destroyed. Is it possible that the danger the elf is warning of is in fact the cursed book? If so, someone should probably let the elf know that it isn't a problem anymore. If you ever meet Dobby, you'll be sure to tell him. Even if you're wrong, there's no harm done in simply talking.

"Still, it can't hurt to be cautious. I just wish Dobby would say what the danger is."

You consider what you know about house elves. As a race, they're completely beholden to their master's orders. You've never heard of a house elf who would want to disobey in the first place, but maybe.. "He's probably forbidden to talk, or something. That he's doing all this on his own is pretty strange in its own right.."

Hermione nods thoughtfully. "That's possible. Oh, we're here! I'll see you later, Ginny!" she calls, turning around and dragging her heavy book-bag behind her then dashing around the corner.


End file.
